


Darkness Deep In You

by aythia



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, BDSM, Bloodplay, Branding, Collars, Fisting, Humiliation, M/M, Mind Games, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sensory Deprivation, Sounding, Torture, Unhappy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-09
Updated: 2012-10-09
Packaged: 2017-11-15 23:25:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 13
Words: 40,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/532925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aythia/pseuds/aythia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just because Jared offered himself up doesn't mean he’ll go down without a fight. The problem is that Jensen likes it when they fight because it makes it that much more delicious when they break.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted at <http://aythia.livejournal.com/117985.html>
> 
> _Warnings:_  
>  Total lack of happy ending (but no deathfic), non-con, bloodplay, forced orgasm, bdsm, orgasm denial, breathplay, rimming, felching, humiliation, mind games, sensory deprivation, collaring, branding, whipping, sounding and fisting. I think that's all of it.
> 
> This story **does not have a happy ending**.

_**~Jared~** _

The night air was bitingly cold against Jared's skin and it was only willpower that made him keep going, the storm lantern in his hand barely giving him enough light to see where his feet landed in the vast woods stretched out around him. There was only one thought in his mind and that was to find his sister, to get her home to her waiting fiancée. He tried not to think about the fact that once she was married, he would be all alone. It didn't matter; all that mattered was that Megan would be happy.

He cursed when he sunk down into the deep snow and felt cold wetness seeping through his worn leather boots; the howling wind seemed to cut straight through his layers of clothing until his teeth were chattering hard enough to hurt. Megan shouldn't even have been gone long—she had only ridden over to a neighbour’s house to gather some fabric for her wedding dress and then come straight home, but the storm had come up full force much earlier than anyone had expected, and Jared's nagging worry had grown to full-fledged panic when the horse Megan had been riding returned home with its saddle empty. Jared hadn't even thought twice about it, just put on his clothes and tried to track the horse's route, but the storm had quickly wiped away the hoof prints and Jared had subsequently found himself walking blindly through the forest.

"Please be alive, please please please be alive," he mumbled as he pushed on through the suffocating darkness. 

When he looked back over his shoulder, he couldn't see his own footprints in the snow; the snowfall and the harsh wind had already wiped them away. Jared tried to not think about finding his way back to their warm cottage; his heart turned to ice when he heard the distant howling of wolves cut through the roaring wind. Jared's heartbeat picked up speed and he tried to move faster through the snow, but he sunk down again and again and had to fight his way forward, exhausting himself more and more with each moment. He could hear the wolves drawing closer, painfully aware of the fact that they had probably heard him, smelled him, and, considering that it was the dead of winter, were probably starving. 

Just when Jared thought everything was lost, he tumbled down a slope and knocked into something that wasn't snow or wood, something that gave a metallic clink when his back hit it hard. He looked up at tall wrought iron gates and almost sobbed with relief as he tried to push them open. For a second, he feared that they were locked, but then he realized that it was the snow that kept them closed and he pushed harder, slowly getting them open enough to barely slide between the metal bars. He had just managed to push them shut behind him when the wolves caught up; he backed away quickly when their heads pushed between the bars and they snapped after him. 

Turning away from the gates, Jared saw that he was standing in front of a big castle. The wolves might have been preferable compared to what waited inside the black walls. He knew of this castle—everyone knew of it—and fear curled violently inside him at the thought. He was just about turn and find some other place to hide when he saw something sticking up out of the snow; with a gasp, he reached for it. 

He would have known the fabric anywhere. He had given Megan a bright blue hairband for her last birthday, the one she had been wearing when she had left their cottage that morning. It was stiff from the cold, and though no footprints marred the snow, it was enough to make Jared gather his courage and walk forward to the high wooden doors of the dark castle. He prayed that he would find Megan unharmed. It was with dread that he knocked on the gate to Castle Nordaschir, but even after he had knocked hard several times, no one came to open up for him. He took one last deep breath and pushed the heavy doors open. 

Wall-mounted torches spread a flickering light inside, but Jared kept a firm grip on his storm lantern and tried to close the doors silently. Since no one had responded to his knocking, maybe he had a chance to search the castle without running into the feared master of Nordaschir, the man everyone knew of but no one had actually seen. Jared only knew of people who had gotten too close to the castle and never returned. He forced that thought away; he needed to find Megan.

~*~

Jared didn't know how long he walked through the deserted hallways, his lamp flickering in his hand, but he knew he must be deep in the belly of the castle when he heard the scream.

"God, please, someone help me. Get me out of here!"

"Megan," Jared gasped, moving faster through the hallway. 

So close to his goal, he was scared to call out for her; he didn't want to bring attention to himself. He tried to be silent as he tested door after door until he opened one and Megan's sobs reached him clearly. He was standing at the top of a staircase that disappeared into darkness, and somewhere down there was Megan. 

At the bottom of the stairs, he was met by cold, damp air, and when he looked around, he realized that the room was another hall lined with several barred doors leading to what could only be cells.

"Megan?" he said quietly.

"Jared?" a small, shaking voice answered him. Jared turned towards the sound. 

"Oh God, Megan."

The heavy door was securely locked and the small opening on it was barely enough for him to shine enough light in to see her, but he was met by her scared eyes and small hand reaching out between the bars, fumbling for his. He braided their fingers together.

"Jared, what are you doing? You need to leave, you can't be here." Megan sounded terrified. "He’ll find you, he’ll hurt you!"

"He?" Jared asked, but he already knew the answer. 

"Ackles. He was the one who told them to lock me up here, because I trespassed," Megan sobbed. "I just needed to get warm, I got lost in the storm and...I just wanted to get warm..."

Ackles, the master of Nordaschir. Just the thought of the man was enough to make a shiver run down Jared's spine; anger rose inside him at the thought of the man who had locked his little sister inside a cold, damp cell in the middle of winter. 

"I'm gonna get you out, Meg," he promised. "No way am I leaving you here. You need to get back home, you’ve got a wedding to plan."

"Jared, no," Megan cried. "You need to get out before he finds you here."

"I'm afraid that it’s too late for that," a cold voice spoke out behind Jared.

Megan let out a whimper and scrambled away from the door when Jared turned around to face the man who had spoken. He couldn't see much; the man was standing just outside the circle of light spreading out from his storm lantern. Jared braced himself against the door and forced himself to look up to where he thought the man's face was.

"Let my sister go!" he demanded. "Or..."

"Or what?" the voice answered, and Jared saw movement in the shadows. "You've got no power here, peasant. Within these walls, my word is law, and I don't like trespassers. I really don't like two of them in one day."

"You can't just hold her here," Jared protested. 

"I can, and I will. She came onto _my_ territory, against _my_ will. And so did you."

"We didn't know," Jared started. 

"Of course you did," the man in the shadows interrupted. "Everyone knows to stay away from Nordaschir, to stay away from me."

"She's my sister," Jared snarled, taking a step forward.

The movement made the circle of light hit the man's feet, but the master of the castle took a step backwards before Jared got a chance to see anything other than the tips of his soft leather boots. The lantern illuminated the dirty floor, the filthy patches of straw that were probably spread out to soak up the dampness and keep some of the cold at bay. 

"I don't know why you think that makes a difference," the cold voice answered. "But I can be nice; after all, I don't want to have several prisoners. It causes problems... I don't like problems. So I will let you leave."

"No," Jared spat. "I'm not leaving her here!"

"You don't have a choice," the voice answered. "You either leave, or you die. Your sister, she can stay as my...entertainment."

"Dear God, no," came Megan's voice from inside the cell. "No no no."

Her low whimper was barely audible, but to Jared it sounded loud, and in an instant, he knew that he needed to do whatever it took to make sure Megan got out of there, got back to her future husband and her happily ever after. 

"Take me instead," he said. 

"Jared, no!"

Megan rushed to the cell door and her slender wrist came out between the bars, reaching for Jared, but Jared kept his back straight and his eyes where he thought the man's face was. 

"Let her go, and take me," he offered again. 

"You?" the man said. "And just what should I do with you?"

Jared tried to not think about all the rumours he had heard about the castle and the man living there, the things that no one talked openly about but that everyone in the village knew. It was for Megan. He would do anything for Megan. 

"Whatever you want."

The silence dragged out and for several long minutes, the only sounds were of their breathing and the quiet sobs from the other side of the cell door. Jared clenched and unclenched his hands, digging his nails into his own skin while he tried to not show the fear that coursed through his veins. Then he saw movement outside the ring of light; the man circled around until he reached the cell door. Jared took an involuntary step forward, wanting to put himself between the man and Megan, but the man’s hand stretched out, his palm open to Jared in a gesture that could only mean 'stop'; Jared froze mid-step, not daring to do anything that could upset the man. 

"You know," the man said. "I think your offer holds value."

The sound of metal on metal was loud in the room, echoing against the bare stone walls. Then came the click of a lock being undone, but before the door was opened, Jared felt hands grab him from behind, pulling him backwards out the room. 

"No, let me go, no!" Jared shouted. "Megan!"

"She’ll be free. My servants will bring her to the village, and you will stay here. For good."

"I want to see her, I want to..."

"No!" the voice snapped, hard like steel. "This is not up for discussion. Take him away."

~*~

The thick door slammed shut behind Jared, and no matter how hard he kicked at it or how loud he screamed, no one answered. When he heard a horse whinnying outside, he turned around and ran to the window; in the courtyard deep below, he saw Megan being pushed into an old carriage. He was too far away for her to hear him scream her name and there was nothing he could do but stand there and watch as they prepared to take her away from him.

He screamed until his voice went rough, beat on the door until each hit coloured it red with his blood, and when that didn't help, he sank down on the floor and cried until his tears ran out. Only then did he look around the room, taking in what he knew would be his cell, his prison. The tall windows were draped in red velvet curtains and only when Jared focused did he notice how frayed they were; remnants from what must have been the castle's glory days. The big four-poster bed must have been from the same era, but when Jared walked over and touched it, the sheets were soft under the tips of his fingers. Heavy furs were spread over it and he knew it would feel better than any bed he had ever slept in, but despite that, he doubted that he would ever be able to get a moment’s sleep in the bed; he would have preferred to have been locked up where the prison guard had held Megan. The big room, although worn down, felt like a mockery.

The door opened suddenly; Jared hadn't even heard the lock click open. A brown-haired man stood in the doorway, his blue eyes fixed on Jared where he was sitting on the edge of the bed. 

"Dinner will be served within the hour," the man said. "Master will be expecting you, and I would suggest you clean up some."

Jared stared; the man had almost closed the door again when Jared got to his feet. 

"What?" he gasped. 

The brown-haired man stopped, pushed the door open again, and turned his cold blue eyes on Jared, no emotion visible on his face. 

"Dinner. I will come get you," he said calmly. He looked around. "I will be right back with some water and fresh clothes."

The door slammed shut before Jared could get a word out and he ended up throwing a pillow at it before he slumped down on the bed, flat on his back, and tried to make sense of the situation he had landed himself in. All he felt was a strange mix of pain, fear and numbness. When the door opened again and the dark-haired man returned, Jared spoke before the man had gotten more than two steps inside the room.

"Please," Jared said, sitting up on the bed. "You need to help me. I'm a prisoner and..."

"I know what you are," the man interrupted calmly. "You're a trespasser and you’ve only got yourself to blame."

Jared gasped and stared at the man. Whatever hopes he had nursed about finding an ally inside Nordaschir died then and there, and Jared could only watch in silence as the man put the steaming bowl of water that he had been carrying down beside a stack of washing cloths that Jared hadn't noticed on a small table. 

"Dinner is in forty minutes," the man said, turning around to look at Jared. "I would suggest you clean up and put these on."

Jared hadn't noticed the clothes the man was carrying over his shoulder until the man threw them down on the bed beside him.

"Master doesn't appreciate dirt," the man added. 

"I won’t have dinner with him," Jared spat out as he jumped off the bed. "He thinks I want to...socialize with him?"

"I don't think Master cares about what you _want_ ," the man said. "I will be back to escort you to your dinner."

~*~

"You haven't cleaned," the man stated when he returned.

Jared's eyes flickered to where the new clothes lay soaked through in the water bowl and the man looked over, following his gaze. A frown wrinkled his forehead and he shook his head. 

"Oh, that was not a good idea," he said, and Jared heard a hint of steel in his voice. "Master will not treat you as nicely after this."

"Nice?" Jared said bitterly. "I'm a prisoner, locked up with no idea of how my sister is or when I'll get out of here."

The man walked over and lifted up the bowl and its wet contents; he was almost out the door again, the soft leather of his shoes barely making a sound, before he spoke again. 

"This will have seemed nice compared to what awaits you now."

When the door slammed shut, Jared felt fresh waves of fear roll over him and he ran his dirty, bloody fingers through his hair, wincing when the scrapes on his torn knuckles pulled at the dirty strands. He didn't have long to let his worry build before the door slammed open hard enough to make the windows rattle and for the first time, Jared found himself face to face with the master of Nordaschir. 

He didn't know what he had been expecting, but it sure wasn't the gorgeous man standing in front of him. The man's hair was somewhere between blonde and light brown, turning almost honey-coloured in the flickering light from a torch on the wall; he had broad shoulders, a tapered waist, and narrow hips. He was dressed from head to toe in black and his pants were tight enough to display the bow of his legs. What really got to Jared, though, were his full plush lips; on any other person, they would have seemed like an invitation to kisses, and above them his shockingly green eyes were surrounded by flirtatiously long eyelashes. But the eyes, they were hard as emeralds, and the full mouth was twisted in a sneer, fury evident on the man’s face as well as in the tense line of his body. 

"Who the hell do you think you are?" the man snarled. "I give you your life; I give you this room, water and clothes when I could just as well have killed you."

"I’d rather you had," Jared said, trying to force his voice to sound collected. "This? Being locked up here? This is torture!"

Something in the very air seemed to change at his words and he could see the man go eerily calm, his features smoothing out and something shifting in his green eyes. 

"Torture?" he asked. "You think _this_ is torture?" 

Jared wished he hadn't spoken; the man’s soft voice scared him more than his anger had and the green eyes were looking at him in a way that made his blood run cold. 

"Jared, right?" That's what the girl called you," Ackles said. "Well, I don't think you deserve to be called by a name when you can't even seem to grasp the simplest requests. And trust me, I will show you torture. Maybe then you will learn to appreciate my...hospitality."

Jared didn't have time to think before he found himself belly-down on the bed, the man grabbing his wrists to restrain him. He tried to scream, but his head was pushed down into the furs splayed across the bed. He managed to get one hand free and groped blindly behind himself; he was rewarded with a pained grunt. Whatever surge of pride the hit had caused died away fast when the man moved to spin him around and straddle him, easily pinning his legs down with the weight of his body. He grabbed Jared's wrists with one hand and held them above his head hard enough that he could feel the bones grind together. 

"You dare to lay your hand on me?" he said. Jared could hear his calm start to fray at the edges. " _No one_ touches me."

Jared wasn't prepared for the hand that landed on his cheek; his head snapped violently to the side from the force of it. To his humiliation, he felt tears burn hot in his eyes and when the man above him landed a backhanded blow, Jared could feel something cut into his cheek, a warm trickle of blood dripping down to the bed. The man lifted his hand and Jared saw a glimmer of metal from the ring on his finger; he tensed, expecting the next blow. It didn't come, though. Instead a finger touched his face, and for a moment, Jared thought the man was caressing his bruised skin; then he realized that he was running his finger through the blood seeping down Jared's face. Jared's eyes went wide when he saw the man lift the bloodstained finger to his lips, his pink tongue snaking out to lick away the liquid. 

"Do I repulse you?" the man asked, his lips curling into a smirk when he saw the face Jared was making. "You are so easy to read. Your fear, you wear it for everyone to see."

He gathered more blood, one blunt nail scraping against Jared's skin, and a new sting made Jared flinch when the nail opened the wound again. Ackles lifted the finger to his face, sucking the bloodstained finger in between his plush lips, and Jared heard a low moan rumbling through his chest. 

"I think I can taste your fear."

The man moved and Jared could feel the hard line of his cock press down; the glimmer in his eyes told Jared that the sensation had been planned. It made something within Jared shatter into tiny, hard fragments when the realization hit him. He knew what would happen; maybe not that night, but sooner or later, and nothing he said or did could prevent it.

~*~


	2. Chapter 2

**_~Jensen~_ **

Jensen could see it. The perfect moment when the man below him realized that there was no escape, the moment when part of him shattered. It was a sweet victory and it made Jensen's blood boil, scorching heat in his veins; he could feel himself go even harder. He pressed his hips down, taking in the wetness pooling in the other man's eyes and the way his white teeth bit down hard on his lower lip. Jensen had no doubt that he was biting back sobs.

The flow of blood had stopped, small clumps of it coagulating over the shallow cut, and Jensen almost reached out to scrape it open again; instead he smiled a slow, predatory, smile that had the man under him shivering as Jensen leaned in and licked over it. At the first swipe of his tongue, he heard a low whimper, just one word spoken so low that Jensen almost missed it. 

"No..."

"Oh, yes," Jensen growled against the wound.

He licked until the dried blood was gone and all that was left was a wrung-out pink line; he pushed up, looking down at the man on the bed, and reached down, wrapping his long fingers around his neck.

"You will not tell me no, get it?"

The man was unresponsive and Jensen's fingers tightened around the graceful expanse; he heard his breathing stutter when his grip cinched the man’s windpipe.

"You do not want to make me upset," he practically purred when he saw his prisoner's eyes go wide. "You do not tell me no. Not now, not ever."

The long, lean body below him started to struggle, but it only made Jensen's grip tighter; he knew that his grip was painful.

"How does it feel, knowing that you offered this up? It was your choice to stay here, and you're mine now."

Jensen let go and the man gasped for air, his body convulsing under Jensen; tears fell from his eyes and Jensen couldn't stop himself from leaning in to lick the tears away. They weren't as satisfying as the rich, metallic taste of blood, but they were salty and sent a shiver of lust down his spine.

Without another word, he pushed himself up off the bed and walked towards the door. He stopped for just a moment and looked back at the quivering mess on the soft pelts covering the bed.

"Next time I tell you to eat with me, you come and eat with me. You eat with me or you don't eat at all."

He slammed the door shut behind him, taking pleasure in the last low whimper he heard coming from inside the room. 

"Anything I can do, Master?" 

Jensen turned around and looked at the servant waiting patiently outside the door. He reached out to turn the heavy key in the lock.

"He only eats if I say so," Jensen said firmly as he started walking down the hall. "Oh, and Misha?"

"Yes, Master?"

"Don't provide him new clothes. He can stay in the lumps he has on...for now."

~*~

The man sleeping on the bed had dark rings under his eyes and his cheeks were stained with the remnants of swiped-away tears; Jensen thought he must have cried himself to sleep the night before. His knuckles were bloodied—Jensen could see bloodstains on the door and around the windows and assumed that he had tried to find a way out. Jensen knew there was no escape, though, and the man's attempts didn't worry him.

"Undress him," Jensen said to Misha, who was standing in the doorway.

His servant nodded and walked over to the bed. Misha pulled out a long, slender dagger, and instead of pulling the man’s clothes off, sliced it through the sweat-stained fabric until the prisoner lay naked on the bed, still sleeping deeply. Misha cast Jensen a look before he wordlessly left the room, bringing the torn clothing with him.

Jensen reached for the rope he had brought with him, long coils of it sliding through his fingers; he wound it around the man's ankles before he moved up to his wrists, stopping when he saw dried blood on his knuckles. This one was a fighter; Jensen liked that. It would make it even more fun to break him. He carefully leaned in and licked over the bruises; the dried blood wasn’t as arousing as the fresh had been the night before, but Jensen was sure he would get to taste both fresh and dried many times. Once the knuckles were licked clean, he tied the man's wrists to the headboard, making sure there would be no escape from the things that Jensen planned to do to him.

He let his hands roam over the body beneath him, coaxing a reaction out of it as his fingers moving down the sleeping man’s chest, tracing over his muscles and down his flat belly until he reached the coarse curls surrounding his slowly hardening cock. The man squirmed, low moans spilling from his lips, and Jensen closed his hand around his cock, causing his prisoner’s lean body to arch and his eyes to crack open, still half-asleep.

"I was wondering when you would wake up," Jensen said.

It took a few moments, but the man's eyes flew completely open and his head jerked up as he tried to look around the room. Jensen could see the instant that it dawned on him what was happening, his eyes widening further in panic.

"No, God, no no no," he gasped, tugging hard at his restraints.

"You don't get to tell me no," Jensen said as he moved his hand firmly up and down the other man's length. "You might as well forget the word."

The man clenched his eyes shut again, trying to shut Jensen out, but despite the fact that he was obviously wishing himself away, his body couldn't help but react to Jensen; he arched up into the tight grip around his cock. Another low 'no' escaped his lips and Jensen clenched his fingers hard enough to make the man whimper in pain.

"You need to learn your place," Jensen said, his voice dipping low and dangerous.

The prisoner fell silent on the bed, his eyes clenched shut and his teeth digging hard into his lower lip, hard enough that Jensen saw small pearls of red leak out against his skin. Jensen wanted to taste the blood, but he knew that what he was doing wasn't for him. It was all for the man spread out on the bed. Jensen swallowed down his urges and let his fingers relax enough to make the man whimper again, not from pain this time. 

Jensen lifted his free hand and stroked two fingers against the man's lips, tiny droplets of blood coloring the tips red before he forced them inside the man’s mouth, ignoring the way he tried to pull his head away.

"Don't you even think about biting," Jensen said, pressing his fingers against the soft tongue. "Trust me, I know how to make you hurt in ways you've never imagined."

He could still see the tension in the tall man, feel it in the way his tongue pressed against Jensen’s fingers, trying to force them out.

"Don't forget, I know where your sister is. Just because she's free doesn't mean she's safe."

The man gasped around his fingers, but the fight seemed to leave his body, even though the tension remained. Jensen withdrew his fingers, wet with spit, and quickly reached down to slide them between the man's spread legs and push them against the warm, puckered skin there.

"No!" The word came out on a quick rush of breath and the prisoner bit down on his lower lip the second it was out, like he tried to bite it back.

Jensen felt his anger rise, a tidal wave that turned the edges of his vision red, and he pushed a finger through the tight clench of muscle. The man cried out and his hips arched up, trying to get away from the intrusion, but the restraints around his wrists and ankles didn't give him much room to move and Jensen's hand was still tight around his cock, pushing him back down against the bed. 

"You. Don't. Get. To. Say. No," Jensen said, each word punctuated by a shove of his finger against the man's prostate.

The sound spilling forth was something between a keening and whimper and the man’s body spasmed in what Jensen knew was a mixture of pain and pleasure. He could feel the cock in his hand throb at the mixed sensations; the man's skin glimmered in the flickering lamplight, covered with a thin sheen of sweat, and Jensen knew it was the first time of many that he would have the man tied up like this.

"Please," the man mumbled, and for a moment, his eyes flickered open to meet Jensen's.

Jensen could barely hold back a moan when he saw the look in those hazel eyes, need and humiliation so tightly entwined that it was impossible to tell them apart. Part of him wanted to drag it out, but he knew that this first time needed to be quick; he had to let his prisoner know how easily he could play his body. 

His finger pushed unrelenting at the small bundle of nerves and his hand worked the hard cock with sure strokes, sliding up to glide through the wetness of pre-come and pressing against the slit.

"Come, now!" Jensen ordered.

The man below him fell apart, a half-choked sob spilling from his lips when the unwanted orgasm ripped through him, dragged out by Jensen's insistent fingers until he made a keening sound and tried to wriggle away from the fingers still fondling him. Jensen let go with one last push. 

"See, you do what I tell, when I tell you," Jensen said, wiping his fingers clean against the man's body. "Don't you ever tell me 'no' again."

He pushed off the bed and left the man spread out, still tied to the sturdy bed frame and covered in his own release.

~*~

"I untied him," Misha's voice sounded from the doorway.

Jensen stretched out in his chair and he pushed his dinner plate away, turning to face the servant standing ramrod-straight beside the table. 

"Did you give him water to wash up?" Jensen asked as he held up his wine glass, light catching on the ruby red liquid.

"No, Master," Misha said, taking the plates away. "He yelled at me, demanding water, demanding to be set free."

Jensen laughed at that. The man _still_ had fight left in him; that would make things more interesting. He brought the glass up to his lips; the velvety smooth liquid lingered on his tongue when Jensen put the glass back down and thought of the man locked away high up in his castle. 

"Has he had any food or water since he arrived?" Jensen asked.

"No, Master," Misha said.

"Good. Prepare some hot water and washing cloths and a plate of food," Jensen said. "Nothing special. Just some bread and cheese, maybe some dried meat."

"Yes, Master. Do you want me to bring it to him?"

"No," Jensen said with a lazy smile. "I’ll do that myself."

~*~

When Jensen pushed the thick door open, the prisoner looked up from his place on the bed; Jensen could feel the man's eyes on him as he walked over to put a bowl of water on the bedside table. He went back out to fetch the food that was waiting just out of sight in Misha's hands; the servant turned to walk away the second Jensen took the plate from him. Jensen walked back into the room in silence, closing the door behind him before he went to put the plate down beside the water bowl. The taller man watched him in silence, his lean body tensed where he lay on the bed, barely covered by sheets and pelts. Jensen could still faintly smell his release in the air and it made his cock go hard and heavy between his legs.

"I thought you might want some food," Jensen said calmly, reaching for the cheese on the plate to put the yellow cube between his own lips, his tongue snaking out to pull it into his mouth.

The other man's eyes turned dark with hatred and hunger and Jensen had to force his smirk back, instead pulling a couple of washcloths out from where they had been fastened to the lining of his soft leather pants and throwing them down on the bed.

"You'll get to eat, after you've cleaned up," Jensen said when he pushed off the bed, taking a few step backwards until his legs hit the edge of the big arm chair in the corner. He sat down, keeping his eyes riveted on his prisoner. The man lay perfectly still, his own eyes darting from the plate of food down to the rags by his side. He reached his hand out to the cloth, but Jensen spoke before he could grab it.

"I will let you eat, _if_ you clean yourself up. Properly," Jensen said. "I believe you're still covered in come? The pelts didn't really get you clean, did they?"

On the bed, the man flinched and turned his face away from Jensen, a deep blush colouring his cheeks. Jensen sat silently in his big chair, looking at him, watching the tension in his body. He seemed to be frozen to the spot; his hand was inches away from the cloth, but he was only staring at Jensen with wide eyes.

"Go on," Jensen said, leaning back without averting his gaze. "Don't you want to be clean?"

Long fingers reached out and grasped the cloth, hard enough for his knuckles to turn white. Jensen bit back a smile when the man sat up, pelts and sheets falling from his body to reveal hard lines of muscles covered in the flaked remnants of his own release.

Jensen stood up and walked over to the bed to reach for one of the cloths. He dipped it in the steaming water, dropping it on the prisoner's come-covered belly, and stood silent, watching the man on the bed. He thought he could see the 'no' form in his mind, even shaping his lips, but the actual word never came; instead, the man took the cloth and slowly cleaned himself. Jensen was transfixed by the movement of cloth over his pale, muscled skin. The man stopped suddenly, the cloth hovering inches away from the soft curve of his cock, and Jensen could see his cheeks turning red again.

"Go on, get yourself clean," Jensen ordered.

The man tightened his grip on the cloth but didn't look up as his body stilled; Jensen waited for a few long minutes, but the man stayed frozen.

"Do it, or you won’t get any food. Do it or I will."

The last words made the prisoner's gaze snap up, his hazel eyes going wide; a shiver ran through his body, but he remained still, and Jensen felt himself tense up at the silent refusal. His anger simmered just under the surface, but he bit it down and moved forward to pick the cloth up. He wrapped his fingers around the man’s soft flesh, the wet rag the only thing separating their skin, and smiled when the other man closed his eyes and whimpered. 

"Wouldn't it have been better to do this by yourself?" Jensen asked, a smirk curving his lips when he felt the cock under his fingers twitch at his touch. "But no, you had to be stubborn. I’ll teach you to obey. Once I'm done with you, you’ll relish moments like these. They’ll seem like heaven compared to the things I’m going do."

Jensen moved the cloth down between the man's legs, cleaning up any remnants of come, saliva and sweat from the tender skin; his prisoner tried to move away from him, pulling at the pelts to cover himself back up. With a low growl, Jensen slapped his hands away and the man's arms fell back down on the bed, clutching tight at the sheet but no longer pulling away.

Once the body beneath him was clean, Jensen threw the cloth down on the floor and moved up to straddle the man's waist; reaching for the plate of food, he grabbed a few pieces of dried meat and a cube of cheese. Below him, the other man's eyes were still closed, like he was trying to block out whatever Jensen had planned for him, but Jensen was set on making him notice everything. He would remember all of it. 

"Look at me," Jensen ordered, but the man just squeezed his eyes shut even tighter. 

Jensen's own eyes narrowed to thin slits and he raised his hand to bury it into the disobedient man's hair, pulling his head back to reveal the long expanse of his graceful throat. Before the man even had time to gasp, he leaned in and bit down hard on the exposed skin; a metallic taste filled his mouth and the other man cried out in pain. Jensen pulled back and licked blood from his lips, heat surging through his body at the taste. 

"There's saying no, and then there's doing," Jensen said, stroking his fingers over the bloodied mark. "I've gotten you to stop one. You _will_ stop the other."

Once more, his prisoner's cheeks were stained with tears, and Jensen leaned in again to lick away the wetness, the taste almost as arousing as the blood. The prisoner's eyes were open and he watched Jensen bring the dried meat up to his mouth; he parted his lips and allowed the food to be pressed onto his tongue. Jensen fed him every piece of food, piece by piece, stopping every time the trapped man attempted to look away. Once the last piece was gone, Jensen sat up straight, still straddling the tall man's waist. He reached for the small mug of water and let the prisoner drink it in slow sips until it was drained and the man’s lips were slightly wet.

"The only thing you get is what I give you," Jensen said as he brushed the pad of his thumb over the other man's lower lip. "I will form you, I will mold you. And I can promise you this: You will never see the outside of this castle again."

The last words seemed to give the man some strength back; he thrashed wildly, actually managing to throw Jensen off of his lap, and he was halfway to the door before Jensen caught his wrist and twisted it around behind his back, pinning his face against the wall.

"Don't you _ever_ try that again," Jensen snarled. "I cleaned you, I fed you, and this is how you repay me? I will teach you to _obey_."

He pushed his prisoner forcefully outside, and even though the man was struggling, Jensen's grip on him didn't relent until they arrived at a narrow corridor that ended in one lonely, heavy door. Jensen pulled it open and shoved the man into the small room on the other side. It wasn't much wider than the door itself and only a few feet deep, and the shove was hard enough to make him stumble against the wall; he grunted low when the cold stone scratched his bare skin.

"You will stay here, until I see it fit to come get you. Maybe this will teach you a lesson."

Jensen slammed the door shut and locked it before he turned around and left the naked man alone in the small, dark chamber.

~*~


	3. Chapter 3

__

**~Jared~**

Jared gasped when the door slammed shut behind him, leaving him in darkness so thick he could feel it press against his skin. He closed his eyes; at least that way, he could pretend there was light that he was choosing to block out.

It didn't work for long. He could feel the darkness like a living thing, curling its way into his lungs until it felt like the walls were closing in on him, making it hard to breathe. He fumbled over dry stone, searching for the door, and when he found it, he couldn't stop the broken sobs that escaped him; the door was too sturdy for him to have any chance at getting through it, and it didn't seem to have a handle on his side. He knew it was hopeless, knew there was no way out, but that didn't stop him from hammering at the door and screaming until his hands and arms were sore and his throat felt raw and abused.

He didn't know how long he had been there, hadn't even been aware of what he was doing, and when his mind finally returned to working condition, he found himself on his knees in front of the door, clawing uselessly at the wood. He knew that the metallic tinge to the air was his own blood; without thinking, he sucked a finger into his mouth to clean it, but then a memory flashed in his mind—the image of Jensen licking Jared's blood off his lips. Jared quickly pulled his finger back out, gagging on the taste of his own blood, and had to force his body not to relieve itself of the little food it had gotten.

"Please, please, please, please."

It took a while for the words to penetrate his mind and even longer for him to realize that they were coming from his own lips, pleading whimpers that no one but himself could hear. Jared bit his lips to keep silent and curled himself into a ball in a corner of the small room, wrapping his arms around his legs. He closed his eyes, waiting for a sleep that still was a long time coming.

~*~

When Jared woke up, it was to darkness, and for a few moments, he draw a blank as to where he was; when the memories slammed into him, his hands flew out, tracing over stone and wood, but he found nothing to give him comfort. He squeezed his eyes shut again, taking deep breaths in an effort to hold his rising panic at bay. He tried to force himself to think about anything other than the small room, the dark walls inching closer by the second.

"I miss you, Megan," he mumbled into the dark; only the thought of his sister could hold back his terror.

The ache of missing Megan was like an open wound. He had always been able to close his eyes and feel her, and their home; the warm smell of homemade bread and the fresh flowers she always brought into their small cottage were easy to remember. But alone in the depths of Nordaschir, where sense memories could have been a lifeline, all he could smell was hard stone and the sour stench of his own sweat.

Time passed slowly in the darkness, and he fought to recall his sister to take away from the horror of the cramped, dark room, but all that managed to do was make him miss human contact, the soft weight of her arms around his neck when she hugged him. Tears streaming down his cheeks, down to his bare chest, Jared retreated from his memories and tried to not think about anything, tried to make his mind a blank slate. 

It didn't work.

Hunger slowly clawed at Jared's insides; bit by bit, it ate away at his crippling fear until all he could focus on was the memory of the dinner he had left behind to find his sister. All he had eaten since then was what Jensen had fed him by hand. The humiliating memory sent a fresh wave of nausea roiling through his body, almost upending what little food he had received for the past three days. 

Jared had no grasp of the passing of time. Endless minutes stretched out around him in the dark, the only sound that of his own ragged breathing, until sleep claimed him once more.

~*~

When Jared woke up for the second time in the endless darkness, he realized that his situation had taken a turn for the worse when his bladder reminded him that even though he might feel suspended in time, that wasn't really the case. Tears fell freely down his cheeks as he hammered his already-bruised hands against the door of his prison, but no one came to his rescue; Jared sank down onto the floor again, his back pressed against one wall and his feet braced against the other. He tried to ignore the pressure in his groin as it turned into an ache, but in the end, he knew he had no choice; biting back whatever dignity he had left, he squeezed himself as far into the corner as possible. 

The reek of his piss was nothing compared to the shame that almost made him wish he would never be fetched. He didn't want anyone to see him like that—in mere days, he had already been broken down into something far from his old self. He tried to take some comfort in the fact that the smell made his hunger retreat. It wasn't much, but it was all he had.

~*~

At first, Jared thought that his mind was betraying him; the dark and the silence had been his company for so long that he wouldn't have been surprised to start hallucinating, anything to break the monotony, but then he heard it again: A scraping sound on the other side of the door. He tried to move, but his body was stiff from hours spent huddled in the same position, and before he managed to scramble to his feet, a small pass-through at the bottom of the door opened and light seeped inside. After hours spent in complete darkness, even the dull glow was enough to hurt Jared's eyes, but pain was the last thing on his mind.

"Please, please, let me out," Jared tried to scream, but the words that fell from his dry lips came out barely more than a whimper.

The person on the other side of the door didn't answer. Instead, a small wooden tray was pushed inside; Jared stared at the few strips of dried meat, single piece of bread, and small jug of water. Realization hit him hard: The room was specifically designed to hold a single person, and if they were going to feed him like that, whoever was on the other side probably wasn’t planning to let him out any time soon.

"No, don't leave me. Please, let me go, I can't be in here," he pleaded, but was only met with silence before the hatch slammed shut and darkness engulfed him again.

Jared screamed until his voice wouldn't let him anymore and his tongue felt thick and swollen in his dry mouth, but no more sound came from the other side of the heavy door. When Jared fell silent, slumped back against the wall, the faint smell of the food reached him. It was far from sufficient, but it was _something_ , and there was no one there to push it odiously past his lips. Jared fumbled in the dark, careful to not tip the mug over, until his hand closed around the bread.

The first bite was pure pleasure, despite the fact that the bread was clearly a few days old, and he whimpered low around his chewing. Jared took his time with the food, mixing bread and meat, and it tasted better than anything he had ever had before. When he reached for the mug and raised it to his lips, the water wasn't cold, but to Jared’s parched tongue and lips, it was bliss. It wasn't until the food and water were gone that Jared got to thinking that maybe he should have saved some of it; he wondered when he would get anything to eat again, or how long they would keep him there.

~*~

Time meant nothing to Jared. The only thing that indicated its progression was the sporadic delivery of food, but he had no idea how often the tray was replaced, and it never seemed to be enough. Hunger was his steadfast companion, together with the darkness. The stenches in the small room were enough to make his belly turn unpleasantly and he tried his utmost to keep away from the far corner, but it was hard when the space he was locked in was small enough that he could reach from wall to wall when he spread his arms out.

Jared pushed himself up off the floor, stretching his tall frame; every bone in his body ached. He paced back and forth, but he could cross the entire floor in two steps, and the mere inches between the top of his head and the ceiling made the room feel even smaller. He sank back down to the floor, closing his eyes to block out the forced darkness, and found himself longing for the bedchamber Jensen had kept him in. The comfort of that prison seemed like heaven compared to the horror of this one.

~*~

The fifth time the pass-through opened, Jared was beyond begging to be let out; fumbling for the food that had been shoved through, he didn’t even try to suppress his whimper when the small door closed and darkness enveloped him again. He tried to focus entirely on the dry sensation of bread in his mouth, unable to hold back a small moan when he realized that the bread was freshly baked. In the midst of the pain and misery that had become his world, a small gift of fresh food was almost overwhelming.

Jared didn't know when his tears had run dry, if it had been hours or days; he would guess the former. His sobs were more persistent; sitting with bread clutched in his hands, he fought them back for as long as he could, but in the end, he dropped the food back onto the tray and let hard, dry wails tear through his body.

The smell from the corner he had taken to using as a toilet made each gulp of air taste foul, turning the food he did eat into rocks in his belly that wanted to come back up; Jared had to swallow them back down. He tasted bitter bile on the back of his tongue when he reached for the food again.

~*~

Jared longed for sunshine. 

He longed for anything that wasn't the small room he was confined to, anything that wasn’t the sour smells of excrement and his own sweat. Closing his eyes, he tried to bring forth memories of something else, but if the memory of his sister was already turning dull, those of his parents were barely more than smoke, and Jared had to dig deep to remember his mother's voice or the way she used to sing him to sleep when he was little.

None of them seemed real anymore. The only reality was the cold, hard stone against his back, and the constant churning of hunger in his belly. Jared tried to imagine getting out; not only out of the room but out of Nordaschir, back to the village, back to his life. His daydream took a bad turn when he thought of how people would react. 

Jensen's hands had been on him, _in_ him, and he knew that the villagers wouldn't see him as anything but soiled and dirty. The few things that Jensen had done, they would imagine tenfold. Jared knew it; he remembered the times he had heard people talk about the master of Nordaschir and what he did to the people in his castle. It was nothing people spoke openly about, but everyone knew what was whispered in the dark; Jared had been one among them, thinking of what kinds of sick people would allow those things to be done to them.

Jared knew then that returning would never be an option for him. The second he offered himself to Jensen, he had forsaken his place in the village. He was nothing to them anymore, and he would never be welcomed back. All he had left was the hope that he would be let out of the small room.

With a hard sob, Jared pushed away any thought of his family. For the first time in his life, he was happy that his parents had passed away. Happy they would never see what he had been reduced to.

~*~

When Jared heard scraping outside the door, he was surprised; it hadn't been long enough since his last meal for his hunger to become unbearable, and it was the first time the tray had been replaced with any sort of speed. But the pass-through didn't open; instead, the clank of the heavy lock prefaced the door opening, and the master of Nordaschir appeared to look down on him.

Jared shied away from the sudden brightness and pressed back against the wall; the now-familiar hardness of his chamber was more welcome than the man filling the doorway. When Jensen stepped into the small space, Jared couldn't stop his whimper, but the expected blow didn't come; instead, Jensen’s hand came out and stroked through Jared's hair. 

The sudden contact sent a rush through Jared's body, a wave of emotion that tore a hard sob from him, and despite the knowledge that the master of Nordaschir was behind his imprisonment, Jared couldn't help relishing the human contact. When Jensen pulled Jared to his feet, Jared let himself be led out of the small room, his legs aching from an eternity spent crouching on the stone floor. The corridor was dimly lit by torches on the walls, but it was enough to make Jared's eyes hurt along with the rest of his body.

When they rounded the corner, Jared stumbled, dizzy from moving and from the hunger in his belly, but before he could fall, Jensen wrapped an arm around his middle and steadied him. It seemed that the man didn’t care about Jared being filthy, or about the stench that Jared himself could no longer smell after all his time confined with it. Looking down at himself, Jared saw his body grey with dirt and sweat; he tried to pull away, but the arm around him held firm and carefully led him on. It took awhile for Jared to realize that he wasn't being returned to the bedroom that had been his first prison; instead, he was taken down a staircase, the air around them growing warm and damp.

Jensen pushed heavy double doors open and Jared found himself looking into a bath. The biggest bathtub Jared had ever seen stood in the middle of the room, the dampness attributable to the spirals of steam rising from the surface of the water. Jared walked as if he was in trance when Jensen put his hand on the small of his back and pushed him forward. Only then did Jared realize that the man hadn't said a single word since he had fetched Jared from the dark room. 

Jared was afraid to speak, letting himself be helped into the tub. He whimpered when the hot water made contact with his skin, but didn't protest, instead letting the water engulf him. The wetness soothing his skin made him feel better even before it washed away any of the grime he was covered in. 

He didn't know what he had expected, but it hadn't been for Jensen to reach for a wash cloth and soap and start to clean him slowly. The scrape of the cloth was both pain and pleasure against his skin, but Jared was still too afraid to say speak, too afraid to say anything that would prompt Jensen to return him to the cell he had just vacated.

When the dirt had been scrubbed off of his skin and into the water, Jared made a vow to himself: He would not do or say anything to give Jensen reason to lock him up ever again.

~*~


	4. Chapter 4

_**~Jensen~** _

Jensen looked down at the body in the water. The tall man's skin wasn't covered in dirt and sweat anymore; the heat and friction of the rough washcloth had scrubbed it pink, edging towards red, and Jensen bit back a smirk when he saw his prisoner close his eyes. Of course, he had had a plan when he’d locked the man in the isolation chamber, but the result was more than he had ever hoped for, and he hadn't expected the man to be able to relax quite so soon after his release. He knew it was probably a week’s worth of nothing but tension that was leaving the man's body. For a moment, Jensen wondered what the man had been like before coming into Jensen's possession, how accustomed he must have been to physical contact if he craved it enough to lean into Jensen's touch.

The surface of the water was turning foamy grey with dirt and Jensen knew it was time to get the man up, but he felt no inclinations to actually lift him. Instead, he took a step back and dropped the washcloth to the floor.

The brown-haired man's eyes opened lazily when he realized that he wasn't being washed anymore; Jensen stood still and watched him, interested to see what his reaction would be. A burst of satisfaction coursed through him when he saw the man pull himself together and scramble out of the bath, almost slipping on the wet floor before he found his balance.

"You need to return to your room," Jensen said calmly.

The man was shaking as the cooler air made his skin pebble, and Jensen wondered how long it would be before he asked for a towel. It wasn’t much, but Jensen wouldn't give anything that wasn't asked for, _pleaded_ for.

"I'm..." The man swayed a bit, clearly weakened from his week of insufficient food and water. "I'm wet, and cold."

Jensen looked at him in silence, waiting for the words he expected. His prisoner bit his lower lip and looked down before he went on.

"Is there a towel somewhere?"

When Jensen remained silent, he looked up, hazel eyes wide and scared in a way that made satisfaction settle low in Jensen's belly, his cock throbbing in anticipation. He bit his inner cheek to keep from smiling.

"Please?"

The word, barely a whisper, sounded like victory, and Jensen turned and walked over to a cupboard in the corner and pulled out a big, grey towel. He walked back to where the tall man was standing, shivering, and held it in his hands, keeping it close. The man took a step forward and hesitantly reached for it, carefully watching Jensen like he was waiting to be reprimanded. When the man pulled the towel from his grasp, Jensen turned around and walked towards the door, knowing full well that the other man would follow. He heard soft footsteps behind him.

"Leave the towel," Jensen said without turning.

The man gasped sharply and his footsteps faltered; Jensen’s shoulders tensed and he was about to turn and reprimand the man when he heard the soft thud of a wet towel hitting the stone floor, the steps coming closer. In silence, he finished leading the man towards the room where he had first been kept.

Jensen pushed the door open and stepped aside, careful not to touch the tall man or move towards him at all; the prisoner hesitated, looking around the room before he stepped across the threshold. Jensen could almost see his questions bubble under the surface, and he spoke before the man had any chance to gather his thoughts into something coherent.

"I expect to see you for dinner later."

Hazel eyes met his and for a moment Jensen almost expected the man to protest—a part of him longed for another chance to put him in his place, but then his gaze was lowered and he nodded his compliance. Jensen shut the door and locked it before the man had time to look up again.

~*~

"When do you want to bring him down for dinner, Master? One hour?"

Misha's voice broke through Jensen's concentration and he looked up to see the servant stand in the doorway, his head lowered and his gaze firmly locked on the floor.

"Make it two," Jensen said, closing the book he had been reading. "Has the isolation chamber been cleaned?"

"Yes, Master," Misha answered.

Jensen smiled when he saw a barely-there shiver run through the servant’s body. The man hadn't been locked in the chamber in years, but it seemed the memories were still clear in his mind. That was just what Jensen wanted.

"Bring him some clothes, but not until just before dinnertime. Oh, and put a bucket in the chamber, just in case I need to use it again."

Misha's head snapped up for a second before he caught himself and looked back down, but it was enough to let Jensen see a flicker of anger in his clear blue eyes. Jensen was on his feet before Misha could react, crossing the space between them almost soundlessly in a few quick strides. He reached the smaller man just as Misha took an involuntarily step backwards. Jensen locked one strong hand around the servant's throat and slammed him back against the wall; he rested his other hand beside Misha's head, balancing himself as he leaned in close.

"You don't agree with my choice?" Jensen asked, his voice deadly calm.

Misha's eyes went wide and Jensen could feel him tremble, his pulse picking up speed when Jensen flexed his fingers over the soft skin.

"No, Master," the man choked out.

"So it doesn't bother you that I want that bucket in place."

His servant didn't answer, and Jensen knew why; Misha might have been careless enough to let his annoyance show, but he wasn't stupid enough to lie to his master. Jensen had taught him the foolishness of that in the years prior.

"Is this because _you_ never had such comforts?" Jensen asked, smirking when Misha's eyes drifted shut. His silence was answer enough. "Because if I remember right, and you know I always do, you broke within two days inside that chamber."

The man pinned against the wall was visibly shaking, and Jensen could only imagine the memories flooding his mind; Misha might have spent only two days locked in the chamber at any given time, but he had been put there numerous times before the lesson sank in. Jensen liked that the man locked away now had lasted longer; it made it all so much more interesting.

"So before you ever hesitate to obey my orders again," Jensen said, his lips brushing against Misha's ear, "know that the chamber is there, not only for him, but for _you_. It would be interesting to see if you can last longer now."

When Jensen let go of Misha, the man sank to his knees, his head lowered and every inch of his body submitting. Somehow, Jensen still felt the anger curl inside him, and he reached down to press two fingers against the mark he had branded on Misha's hand ten years earlier, the same day his parents had passed away and left him the master of Nordaschir. The scarred tissue felt almost cold under his touch and he heard the servant's breath hitch.

"Know your place, slave."

Misha crumbled to the floor and Jensen left him there, confident that he wouldn't dare express any hints of private thoughts for a long time to come.

~*~

Jensen sat down at the small round table and leaned back in his sturdy chair, waiting for his prisoner to join him. He smirked when he saw that one of his servants had done their job and removed the other chair, but put out a second plate beside Jensen's. He heard footsteps on the other side of the closed doors and turned as they opened; his prisoner stood on the other side, looking at him from under his shaggy hair, and Jensen looked back at him without saying a word. The man was dressed in white: soft pants and a tunic that seemed too big for him, despite his size. Jensen realized that he had lost quite a bit of weight during the past week.

The man remained still in the door frame, taking in the almost intimate feel of the small room and Jensen situated at the small table, one arm propped up against the armrest and his fingers curled under his chin while he waited for him to step inside.

"You wanted to me to join you for dinner," he said as he entered, hesitating at the lack of a second chair.

"Yes," Jensen said, motioning for the tall man to move closer. "Sit down."

The man looked around the room and then down at the small rug at Jensen's feet. His hazel eyes went wide with understanding, and a shiver ran through him. His internal struggle was clear, emotions flickering across his face; Jensen watched the glimmer of anger and defiance being replaced by pain and then resignation. His prisoner lifted one hand and pushed it through his hair, fingers tangling in the brown strands before his shoulders slumped and he moved forward, sliding to his knees with a gracefulness that made Jensen's cock throb.

Jensen reached out for a small bell on the table; the clear sound rang out in the otherwise silent room, and within moments, a servant had entered through a small side door, putting a heavy tray down on the table without speaking a single word. He took a small step back, bowing before Jensen, and after a moment’s hesitation, turned and gave a small nod to the man who had folded himself on the floor to lean against Jensen’s leg.

The small motion wasn't much, but it made Jensen smile, a small, hard smirk at the way his servants were already accepting the man that Jensen was forming to his will. Jensen looked down at the man at his feet and reached out to put a hand on his head, tangling his fingers in his too-long hair and pulling his head back, forcing him to look up at Jensen.

"Will you behave, or do I have to hand-feed you again?"

The tall man swallowed and his eyes fluttered shut for a second before his tongue swiped over his dry lips.

"I'll behave," he said quietly.

Jensen looked down his prisoner, keeping his head pulled back while he waited for the one word that would persuade him to leave the man to eat by himself. He could see the man's Adam's apple move when he swallowed and when he did speak, it was barely audible.

"Master."

Satisfaction settled comfortably in Jensen's belly and he let go of the man's hair, reaching for the food on the table—a stew that smelled richly of spices, and freshly baked bread that was still warm to the touch. He didn't speak to the man anymore, and the two of them ate in silence. The man on the floor ate with slow, precise movements, and Jensen could see the pleasure he took in each bite. The man relaxed by his side, Jensen could feel it where their bodies touched; he smiled, knowing that the man couldn't see it. He was looking forward to his plans for the rest of the evening.

~*~

"You will eat with me from now on," Jensen said as he led his prisoner past the room where he had been kept, continuing instead up a curved staircase to a wide set of double doors.

"Yes...Master," came a low answer from right behind him.

Jensen pushed the doors open and led the man into his own bedchamber where red velvet curtains framed the high windows. They were high enough in the castle for the view to be spectacular: sprawling forest, high mountains, and, in the distance, the small village that his prisoner had originated from. The tall man looked out the windows, pain clear on his face at the sight of the houses, and Jensen walked up to stand behind him, reaching out to put his hand on the man's hips.

"You eat with me, you wear what clothes I give you, and if you want to sleep, you sleep here. In my bed."

"No," the man gasped, trying to flinch away from the touch.

Jensen had expected the man to react, but the flat-out refusal made his anger flare high, wiping away any calm or satisfaction that had built up during the evening. He moved fast, one hand on the man's throat and the other in his hair to slam him hard against the wall.

"What did you say?"

The man shook under Jensen's fingers, trembling hard enough for his teeth to chatter; his eyes were closed tight, his head twisting in an effort to get out of the tight grip.

"I didn't..."

"I told you never to say 'no' to me!" Jensen snarled, spinning around and sending the man stumbling across the floor to fall down on the big bed. "You do what I tell you, when I tell you, and you can forget about free will. You have _my_ will."

"Please," was the whimpered answer.

Jensen didn't respond; instead, he took hold of the man’s tunic and pulled, smirking when the fabric ripped under his fingers to reveal miles of flawless skin, still slightly pink from the earlier scrubbing.

"No, I thought... Please don't do this..."

"Oh, but I am," Jensen said. He pulled at the strings holding the man's pants up. "Will you try and stop me?"

The man made a low whimpering sound, but instead of speaking out again, he tried to push Jensen away; Jensen wouldn't have anything of it. He flipped the man over onto his belly and moved to straddle his hips. His prisoner froze under him, body going stiff and trembling, and Jensen went hard at the feel of the strong limbs beneath him.

"You’ve got two choices here, prisoner," Jensen said as he leaned forward, brushing his lips against the man's ear. "This is happening either way, but it's up to you how much it hurts."

"Why?" the man mumbled into the pillow. "Why are you doing this?"

Jensen rolled his hips down, the hard line of his cock rubbing against the man's bare ass through the fabric of his own pants. It was the only answer he planned to give as he reached for the small bottle of oil on his bedside table. He buried one hand in the man's hair, holding him down to keep him from seeing what he was doing, and dipped the fingers of his other hand into the oil, slicking them up before he shifted down, sitting across the man's thighs. The man was still whimpering beneath him, but no longer trying to pull away. Jensen gave no warning before he reached down and pushed a long, oil-covered finger deep inside the man's body.

A sharp cry escaped the man's lips and Jensen felt his inner muscles flutter around the digit, his body trying to pull away as Jensen held him still, pinning him down with his own weight. He pushed a second finger inside and didn't give the man beneath him any chance to adjust to the breach, scissoring his fingers and opening the man up with rough moments. The pained sounds he was making into the pillow had Jensen’s hard cock pulsing in the confines of his pants.

He knew that his fingers dealt a lot of pain, and the knowledge made Jensen's arousal soar higher; he needed to get the man to crumble and submit. He knew that it would happen sooner or later, and he planned to make the most of the process of getting there.

"Stop... Don't, please... No..."

The words were no more than a rambling mumble, hard sobs into the pillow; Jensen tightened his hand in the prisoner’s hair and pulled his head up to hear him more clearly.

"Stop telling me 'no,' slave," Jensen hissed angrily. "I swear, you will pay for every protest. Do you _want_ to go back to the chamber?"

He had expected the man under him to give in at the threat of isolation, but his prisoner had more strength than Jensen had realized; he started thrashing again, trying to catch Jensen in his arms and push him off, but Jensen had no plans to give up so quickly. With a last flex of his fingers, he pulled them out of the man and reached under the comforter to grab the metal cuffs that were fastened to the bed. For a moment, he almost regretted having the man face down; he would have wanted to see his eyes when he saw the cuffs, but as it was, he would have to rely on the tremors in the man’s body and his terrified whimpers to fuel his lust. He snapped the cuffs around the man's wrists before he had time to make any dramatic movements, severely restricting him with the short chain. It didn't stop him from trying to pull his arms free, but Jensen didn't worry. He knew that the metal was strong, and the chain was securely fastened to the bed. The man wasn't going anywhere.

Ignoring the man’s pleading words, his curses and sobs, Jensen got off the bed and started peeling his black clothes off, the heavy velvet tunic falling to the floor before he reached to push his pants down. The man was still struggling, the hard metal of the cuffs already cutting through his skin as blood leaked from under the metal bands. The smell was heady enough to make Jensen want to straddle the man and push inside, hard and fast, but there was more to it all than his want and lust. He wanted the man to know that there was no going away, that the scene playing out was the first of many to come.

The man's eyes snapped up to his face when he moved to stand in front of the bed; Jensen wasn't surprised to hear the man gasp when he saw Jensen undressed for the first time.

"What... Who...?"

Jensen smiled and looked down his own body, knowing that the man was looking at the mark over his right hip, the red skin of his careful brand.

"This is my mark, prisoner," Jensen said, running his fingers over the scar. "All my servants have it on their hands."

The man on the bed didn't take his gaze off where Jensen's fingers caressed the raised skin of the scar, tracing the outlines of the symbol.

"This is the mark you will carry," Jensen said. At once, the man started fighting his shackles again. "But yours will be bigger," Jensen promised. "And it will bind you to me forever; everyone will see that mark on you and know that you belong to me. That you gave yourself to me willingly, as each of my servants has at one time."

"I'm not willing!" the man whimpered. Jensen could see the conflict in him, the need to fight warring with the need to obey, to stay out of the isolation chamber.

Jensen moved back to the bed and pinned the man's body beneath him, not bothering to hold him still; the cuffs and his own body weight would do that for him. Instead, he rested his hands on each side of the prisoner's body, supporting his own weight as he rolled his hips down, pushing the hard line of his cock against the man's ass. He knew that the preparation he had done wouldn't be enough; penetration would hurt. The thought made anticipation curl warm and heavy in his groin.

"No."

The word was the one thing that could break Jensen's focus and strong willpower; he snapped his hips forward, groaning when his cock was buried in tight heat. He could feel the man clench down around him, impossibly tight, and despite the oil, the friction was almost painful when he pulled away before slamming back in with a circling motion. The man screamed, arching his back in a wild attempt to get away. There was no escape, each half-choked scream making Jensen's cock throb where it was buried deep in the man's ass.

He could hear the agony in every breath the man managed to drag down into his lungs between his screams, could feel it in the way his body clenched around Jensen's cock; it was perfection like nothing he had known before. Jensen knew that someday, he would take his time, prep the man enough for him to find pleasure in each hated touch; that would be a victory even sweeter, pulling orgasms from him with pure force, but it wasn't what Jensen wanted just then. This was nothing more than claiming.

The fight was leaving the man beneath him, and Jensen could feel the tight muscle flex around him, sweet friction against his cock. He leaned down and bit into the man's shoulder, hard enough to make him cry out as Jensen’s mouth filled with blood. At the coppery taste and the man’s low whimpers, Jensen came, hard. He could feel the body beneath him milk every last drop out of him while he licked the blood from the man's shoulder.

Jensen moved away, pulling himself from the man's body, and stood on his knees to look down at the body spread across his bed, taking in the blood smeared over his pale skin. When his gaze drifted down, he could see the red, abused skin surrounding the man's opening and the white liquid slowly leaking out.

With a lazy, pleased smile, Jensen sank down on the bed, but he didn't move to unlock the cuffs; instead, he reached out and stroked a hand through the blood at the man's wrists before raising his fingers to his own lips and licking them clean. He repeated the gesture, this time bringing his fingers to the prisoner's lips instead, smirking when the man shivered but licked the blood away without protest. Jensen could feel his body shudder in what must have been a combination of fear, pain, and exhaustion.

"Good boy," Jensen said. He stroked his hand through the man's hair before he lay down on the bed and closed his eyes.

Jensen fell asleep to the sweet lullaby of the other man's ragged sobs.

~*~


	5. Chapter 5

_**~Jared~** _

The first thing he was aware of when he woke up was pain. For a few blissful moments, he couldn't remember why his whole body was aching, but then the memories came flooding back, images behind his closed lids; he squeezed his eyes shut even tighter, trying to will them away. Beside him, someone was moving, and Jared couldn't hold back a whimper when warm skin came in contact with his arm. He tried to flinch away from it and was met by a fresh wave of burning when the shackle dug into his already bruised wrists.

Jared's eyes flew open and he looked up to where his hands were still held in place by dark metal, the skin surrounding the cuffs red and sore and the otherwise white sheet dotted with dried blood. The sight made Jared's breath catch in his throat and, without thinking, he tried to pull away; he whimpered when the cuffs cut deep enough to reopen the wounds. Beside him, Jensen turned around on the bed at the sound escaping Jared's lips, his eyes locked with Jared's for a few long moments as they both froze in place before the man reached to take something from the small bedside table. A clicking sound rang out loud in the otherwise silent room and the metal fell from Jared's wrists, clanking down on the stone floor.

"We need to get you clean," Jensen said, his voice void of emotion.

The flat tone made Jared flinch away and for a moment, he feared that the man would lick Jared clean as he had before; instead, Jensen got off the bed and walked over to a table where two decanters where standing, one clearly filled with deep red wine and the other with water. Jared forced himself to focus on the way the water moved when Jensen picked the decanter up and brought it back to the bed, looking away from the other man's naked form and forcing his mind to stay away from the memories of the previous night; his body was in too much pain, though, for the memory to stay too far back in his mind.

"Be still," Jensen ordered when Jared pulled away from him, one strong hand gripping Jared's arm, careful not to touch the hurt skin. "If I don't do this, it will become infected. Would you rather have me touch you now, or when I have to cut your hands off later on?"

Jared shivered at the uncaring tone of Jensen's voice and forced himself to stay still while Jensen poured water on a washcloth, slowly cleaning the blood away. The cloth felt rough where it scraped over his bruised skin and several times, Jared had to bit back a whimper, but the other man ignored every sound of discomfort and continued his cleaning until all blood and dirt was gone and Jared's wrists were clean. The damage was clearly visible and Jared closed his eyes again to block it out.

Closing his eyes around Jensen was clearly a bad idea, as it made him completely unaware of what Jensen was doing until it happened—the wet cloth returned to his body, this time scraping over his back and then down between his legs.

"No," Jared gasped before he could stop himself.

The punishment was instantaneous. The cloth was gone and Jensen's hand fell down hard on Jared's ass; combined with the soreness of his body, it was enough to make Jared cry out.

"I told you," Jensen said, his voice a snarl. "You do not. Get. To. Say. No. To. Me."

Each word was punctuated by another hit and if Jared hadn't been so terrified of a repeat of the previous night, he would have tried to get away, but he knew firsthand what Jensen was capable of; he would rather take the punishment of Jensen's hand hitting his flesh over the agony that had been the night before. By the time the hand stopped falling against his skin, Jared's ass felt like it was burning; he knew it was red with the imprint of Jensen's hand and when the cloth returned, Jared forced himself to stay still.

"See, it's all so much easier if you just do what you're told," Jensen said, the anger gone from his voice.

Jared cried into the pillow while Jensen cleaned what Jared knew would be a mess of oil, come, sweat, and blood; each touch against the tender flesh was painful enough to make him whimper, but he endured. Even though the cleaning ritual was humiliating, it was nothing compared to the isolation chamber, or the pain of the rape.

~*~

Jared didn't know how much time had passed since the cleaning, but he was pretty sure it had been hours, hours he had spent alone in Jensen's bedroom. The man had left without a word, but before Jared had time to move, the dark-haired slave had come into the room and, without looking at Jared, taken anything he could have used to harm himself in any way. Jared looked down on the man's hand, gasping when he saw the mark branded on the otherwise pale skin. He was still thinking of that mark when the door slammed shut behind the man and the click of the lock rang out loud in the room.

The time alone was time to think, although it was something he would rather not have done, not when every thought reminded him why it hurt to move, why pain shot up from his ass, and why his wrists were surrounded by dark bruises and wounds that were aching dully. But more than anything, he tried to not think about the words Jensen had spoken the night before.

_This is the mark you will carry._

The thought of having Jensen's mark on him, of being branded like he was little more than cattle, made his belly churn, and he had to swallow down bile. He tried to tell himself it wouldn't happen, that he somehow would find a way to avoid it, but everything Jensen had said would happen had happened, and deep inside, Jared knew that the only way to avoid it was escape. He also knew that Jensen would never give him opportunity to do that.

Hunger started tugging hard and insistent at his insides and Jared realized that Jensen would hold him to the promise he had made—that he would only eat together with the other man, and that he would be kept waiting for whenever Jensen decided it was time for Jared to eat. Jared curled up on the bed, pulling the sheets around himself to cover his nakedness, and for awhile, he let the misery and pain wash over him until exhaustion claimed him in a restless sleep.

_~*~_

"There are clothes for you here. And warm water if you need to clean up. Master will expect you to be ready for dinner in thirty minutes."

Jared sat up in bed and turned around to look at the dark-haired servant standing at the foot of the bed; his blue eyes were locked on Jared's face, thankfully not drifting down when the sheet fell too low around his waist. 

"Thank you," Jared mumbled gratefully.

The other man flinched at the words and his blue eyes went hard before he turned his back to Jared, clearly not willing to leave him alone to get dressed; Jared himself was at a point where he would take whatever small comforts he could, and washing himself was the first thing he had felt in control of since his time in the isolation chamber. 

He washed the sleep out of his eyes and despite the bland clothes not quite fitting him, he felt ever so slightly better; they weren't much protection, but they were all he had, and at least he wouldn't have to appear in front of Jensen naked. The ache in his body was nothing he could do anything about, nor was the urge to crawl back into bed and cry himself to sleep. He knew better than to do anything other than what Jensen wanted.

The servant took up the bowl of water and the discarded washcloth and headed for the door, leaving Jared standing awkwardly on the middle of the floor. 

"I'll be back to escort you to dinner," he said as he turned the door handle.

"Wait," Jared said, taking a step forward.

The man at the door turned his head to look at Jared over his shoulder with a guarded expression, but he didn't look as distant and cold as he had that first day.

"What's your name?" Jared asked.

The brown-haired man seemed to be his only human contact, besides Jensen, and Jared wanted, _needed_ , to know his name. The man hesitated for a few long moments before he pulled the door open.

"It's Misha," the man said. "Not that names matters. Not here."

~*~

The servant, Misha, walked in front of Jared but didn't say anything; he didn't react when Jared winced walking down the stairs, the movement sending fresh waves of pain through his body. He had to stop a few times to get himself back under control.

"Master is waiting for you." Misha stopped outside the same door Jared had been guided to the day before.

Jared took a few deep breaths, but he was frozen in spot, unable to move closer to the door. The other man frowned, hardness returning to his eyes.

"Go inside, _now_ ," he snapped. "I'm not going to take the punishment for your weaknesses."

That statement made Jared's head snap up and he stared at the other man with wide eyes, but aside from the coldness of his voice, he made no expression of emotion.

"I'm not weak," Jared said through gritted teeth.

"Then go inside," Misha responded. "You think you're the only one? _You_ came here. _You_ offered yourself up. You belong to Master now, and I don't know what you expected, but this is what you get. Nothing ever changes here."

With those words, he rapped his knuckles against the door and turned around, leaving Jared to stand alone outside the door until he heard the 'come in' from the other side. Despite his fear, he knew he had no choice but to enter the room; he did so with a lowered head, unwilling to look at the master of Nordaschir, afraid of what he would see.

_Nothing ever changes here._

The words rang in his ears when he saw that the table was sat in the same way it had been the day before; Jensen was seated in the big, comfortable chair, waiting for Jared. He could feel the man's eyes on him, but he refused to look up; he knew what was expected of him. He moved forward to sit down on the small rug at Jensen's feet. The movement hurt him enough that he couldn't hold back a low groan, and he felt stiff when he sat down, hating that he had to lean against Jensen's chair and leg to keep the pressure from the most sensitive parts of his body.

"Hungry?"

Jared nodded without looking up and quickly realized what a mistake that had been when Jensen grabbed his hair and twisted his head back until he was forced to meet angry green eyes.

"When I ask you something, you _answer_. Understood?"

"Yes," Jared whimpered.

The green eyes didn't leave his and the hand clenched even harder, pain flaring from where it tugged his hair, and it took Jared a few long moments to understand what he had forgotten.

"Yes, Master," he said, trying to not choke on the word.

It seemed to please the other man enough; his grip loosened right away, but instead of pulling away, he carded his fingers through Jared's hair. Jared thought he heard a low 'good boy' when the door opened and a servant he hadn't seen before walked in with a heavy tray. He carefully put it down in front of Jensen and quickly vacated the room again; Jensen lifted the lid off a bowl to release the rich fragrances of the stew inside. Combined with the smell of fresh bread and the wine that Jensen had poured, Jared thought he should be hungry, but each bite was heavy and dry on his tongue and he was aware of Jensen's hand returning to his hair while they ate. Each time Jared hesitated to take another bite, the hand went still, grasping ever so slightly until Jared understood he had no choice but to finish everything Jensen had put on his plate.

"I see you can obey when you want to," Jensen said when the plates were empty.

"Yes, Master," Jared agreed quickly.

"Good," Jensen said, removing his hand from Jared's hair. "Prove it."

Jared's gaze snapped up when he heard the dry sound of fabric rustling and his eyes went wide when Jensen pushed his clingy black pants down to reveal the already hard length of his cock. Jared was pretty sure he knew what was expected of him, but he found himself unable to move, staring at the other man.

"Slave," Jensen said, his voice hard. "Either you do this willingly, or we have a nice little repeat of last night."

The words sent a shiver down Jared's spine and a sour taste filled his mouth. He was far from willing, but his body ached with every little movement, and he didn't think he would survive another night like the one before. There was only one way to avoid it, though; he reached out to wrap his long fingers around the hard length.

Jensen's eyes drifted shut and his breathing turned a bit heavier, but it was the only reaction Jared got; he shifted closer, wincing at his soreness, until he was kneeling between Jensen's spread legs and the cock was right in front of him.

"Go on," Jensen said, his voice deeper than Jared had ever heard it before.

There was no more room for hesitation and, with one quick glance up at Jensen's face, Jared leaned forward to let the head of Jensen's cock drag against his lips, trying not to gag when pre-come smeared a wet trail over his skin. Without thinking, Jared stuck his tongue out to lick it away, the unfamiliar the salty taste exploding across his tongue and causing him to cough and sputter. When he looked up again, Jensen's eyes were wide open and his eyebrow raised, clearly waiting for Jared to go on.

For some reason, it was easier when Jensen was watching him; Jared hadn't expected that, but when he reached his tongue out to lick over the head, he could see approval in Jensen’s eyes and despite the pain of the previous night, something inside of Jared felt better, knowing that he was doing something right. Maybe if he was good, Jensen wouldn't hurt him any more. That hope was enough to prompt him to wrap his lips around the crown and press his tongue against the slit, another burst of pre-come filling his mouth. This time, Jared stopped himself from gagging, instead forcing himself to moan. He knew right away that it was the right choice when Jensen's eyes turned darker with lust and his hand returned to Jared's hair; instead of gripping hard, he stroked through it softly and nodded for Jared to go on.

Leaning forward to slide more of the hard cock into his mouth, Jared lost the eye contact, but when he took Jensen deep enough for tears to sting his eyes, he was rewarded by a rumbling moan and Jensen's fingers flexing against his skull, not pushing down but clearly showing that the man appreciated what Jared was doing. The feel of Jensen on his tongue was strange, and several times, Jared had to stop to figure out how to breathe around the length sliding in and out between his lips, but he refused to think of what was happening; his only goal was to make it good for Jensen, to save himself from any pain.

"Good boy, such a good boy," Jensen gasped, pushing his hips up.

The movement made Jared gag when Jensen slid another half inch down his throat, but Jensen’s hand on the back of Jared's skull held him firmly in place until Jared had gotten used to the pressure inside his throat; he realized that swallowing helped fight the gag reflex in addition to making Jensen moan as Jared's throat flexed around the head of his cock.

Jared pulled up slightly, dragging his tongue up the underside of Jensen's cock until he could wrap one hand around the base and move his hand along the length while he licked and sucked at the head until the man in the chair was trembling with pleasure, his hand catching hard in Jared's hair and pushing him down again. Jared forced out another low moan when Jensen slid back into his mouth, hollowing out his cheeks and sucking hard on the length filling his mouth. The fingers in his hair tightened and the next second, Jared's mouth was filled with warm, salty come; Jared fought to swallow it all down, but he could feel some leak out and drip down his chin when Jensen held him still and fucked Jared's mouth until his cock started to go soft between Jared's lips. With one last thrust and a loud groan, Jensen pulled out, and Jared lifted his hand to wipe away the come and saliva on his face; before he could reach it, Jensen cupped his face, his thumb gathering up the white pearls before he pushed the digit into Jared's mouth.

There was something about the gesture that made a shiver run down Jared's spine and he had to fight his instinct to coil away from the humiliating gesture when Jensen fed him the come, but the look on Jensen's face made Jared suck the sticky mess from Jensen's fingers without protest.

"That's it," Jensen mumbled, dragging his thumb over Jared's lower lip. "I knew I could teach you, such a good mouth on you."

Jared was breathing hard and his throat felt raw, abused, and it hurt when he swallowed; despite that, warmth curled through him at the praise falling from Jensen's lips.

Maybe Jared could avoid being hurt if only he was good enough.

~*~


	6. Chapter 6

_**~Jensen~** _

Jensen looked down at the sleeping form in his bed, a lazy smile playing about his lips as he took it in. The smile turned satisfied when he saw the bruises that still marred the man's wrists; Jensen touched the fading marks, promising himself to refresh them sometime soon.

He let his gaze drift down the man's body, down over muscled arms and shoulders and back, his fingers tracing the line of his spine, sliding over the knobs of bone and down to the perfect curve of his ass. The first light of dawn was finding its way in through the high windows and painting the man's body golden, miles and miles of flawless skin, all of it belonging to Jensen.

"It's time to mark you again," Jensen mumbled to himself as he dragged a finger down the man's ass crack.

Jensen's cock was blood-filled and hard, had been from the moment he’d woken up, but for the time being, he ignored it, instead planning on another session with the man in his bed. A week had passed since the first time he’d gotten to have his prisoner kneel in front of him, soft lips wrapped around his cock, and while he had made sure to get his cock into that warm mouth at least once a day, he hadn't gone further. The man's body needed to heal after Jensen's rough intrusions, but Jensen knew that he also needed to give his mind time to adjust to the change; the night before had been an indication that it might be time to push his game up a notch. 

He spread his palms wide over the man's ass, pushing the round globes apart to reveal the pink opening just waiting for Jensen to claim it again. The red puffiness was gone and he couldn't stop himself from stroking the pad of his thumb over the puckered flesh, smiling when the rest of the body shivered at the slight touch.

Careful to not disturb the sleeping man, Jensen reached for the ever-present bottle of oil on the bedside table and drenched his fingers before dropping the thick liquid over the man's ass to drip down over his opening. Another shiver ran through his body, but he still didn't wake up, and Jensen carefully circled his fingers over the tight muscle, slow pressure without pushing inside.

"Wha...who..." came a low mumble as hazel eyes blinked open, clouded by sleep when Jensen’s prisoner looked over his shoulder at him.

The lazy sleep-induced relaxation was gone in an instant and Jensen could feel the muscle under his fingers tense up along with the rest of the man's body; he knew that the prisoner must be aware of the touch of his fingers, but the man didn't pull away. Jensen wondered if it was because of shock or if he had decided not to fight.

"I was wondering how long you were going to sleep," Jensen said.

The long, lean body shivered under the tips of his fingers and the man took deep breaths, clearly trying to pull himself together. When the ring of muscle his finger was circling relaxed ever so slightly, Jensen took his chance and pushed it deep inside.

A sharp cry rang out and he felt muscles clamp down hard, a vice around his finger, but the man stayed in his spot and when Jensen pushed his legs apart, he obeyed, even as he buried his face in a thick pillow.

"Good boy," Jensen murmured as he dragged his finger back out again.

The man whimpered when Jensen's thick finger left his body and Jensen had no doubts that it was from relief, but he had no plans to stop; instead, he reached out for more oil, massaging the translucent liquid over the man's hole until the pink rim shone in the flickering torchlight.

"Why?" the prisoner asked, muffled into the pillow.

"Why am I doing this?" Jensen said, and the man nodded without lifting his head up. "Does it matter?"

Jensen punctuated the question by pushing his finger back inside; the man groaned but didn't question Jensen again, and Jensen was glad for it. He didn't want this to turn into a disciplinary session, not when he had such a clear goal.

With his free hand, he stroked up the man's side, a soft touch that had him shivering again. Jensen smirked when his prisoner's breath hitched as his finger found the man’s prostate. Pulling his head up from the pillow, he turned his head to look at Jensen, and when his lips moved, Jensen read the word 'no'; the man knew better than to speak it out loud. 

"Not saying no to me anymore, are you?" Jensen asked, pressing his finger against the small bundle of nerves. 

His prisoner shook his head and looked forward instead, but Jensen could still feel the tension in the body beneath him; he kept pressing hard against that spot until the man whimpered and his body started squirming.

"Be still!" Jensen snapped, and to his satisfaction, the man froze right away. Small shivers ran persistently through him when Jensen pushed a second finger inside; the tight heat squeezed his fingers when he flexed them, alternating between pushing at that spot and stretching the muscle open.

"Do you like this, boy?" Jensen asked in a teasing tone.

The man groaned but shook his head and Jensen pressed the tips of his finger to either side of the spot, rubbing insistently. The man let out a half-choked sound somewhere between a moan and a sob that made Jensen's cock twitch; he withdraw his fingers so quickly that it made the brown-haired man gasp in surprise, turning to look at Jensen again when Jensen stepped off the bed. 

"Turn around," Jensen ordered. 

For one quick second, he saw a flash in the man's eyes, but then his gaze turned down and he shifted on the bed. Jensen watched the muscles move and flex under his skin when the man spread out on his back, a smirk playing on Jensen's lips when he saw the man's cock half-hard as he blushed. Rather than draw attention to it, though, Jensen dipped his fingers into the oil once more and stepped to the foot of the bed.

"Spread your legs," he said, and the man trembled as he obeyed. "Bend your knees."

The view in front of him was perfect, his prisoner stretched out on the soft sheets with his hands fisting the material and his knees bent to give Jensen a picturesque view of his softening cock and heavy balls, but Jensen’s gaze was drawn to the pink, glistening rim waiting for his fingers to return. Jensen climbed back onto the bad, kneeling between the man's legs. He saw his thigh muscles twitch as if the man wanted to close his legs, but Jensen put one hand on the man's knee to still him and the man closed his eyes.

"No," Jensen said. "You will look at me. If I see you closing your eyes again, you will be punished. Do you _want_ to be punished?"

The man's eyes flew open and Jensen saw fear and submission mingled together in them as his legs fell further apart. Jensen didn't want to give the man time to gather his thoughts, lowering his oil-covered fingers and, without preamble, pressing two fingers deep inside, making the man's body arch up off the bed. Without wasting any time, Jensen returned to working the man's prostate with knowing fingers, keeping his gaze locked with the prisoner’s.

He knew that the man couldn't help the moans and whimpers spilling from his lips, but each time, the man bit his lower lip, trying to keep the sounds back. Jensen didn't like that. He wanted to hear them; getting the man to make sounds was his plan, after all. 

"Stop trying to be quiet," Jensen said.

The man bit his lip so hard that Jensen expected to see blood; he was about to snap at him when his gaze fell down to the prisoner's cock, blood-filled and hard from the constant assault on his prostate. Jensen lifted his hand from the man's leg and wrapped it around the hard length, the gasp that tore through the man making him release his lip; Jensen smiled when a low moan reverberated through his body, all the way down to Jensen’s buried fingers.

"Feels good, don't it?" Jensen said in a low voice. "You're all hard from this, from my fingers inside your ass. Your body’s so tight around my fingers, your hole so good around me."

The man didn't answer. He had stopped trying to hold back the sounds Jensen's fingers pulled from him, but Jensen could hear that the moans were mixed with sobs and see that the man's eyelashes were wet with unshed tears.

"Tell me how this feels," Jensen ordered. "Tell me that you like it."

"Please," the man mumbled, but the next words weren't the ones Jensen wanted to hear. "Don't make me do that."

Jensen's eyes narrowed angrily and the man whimpered and opened his mouth again.

"Please."

"Tell me!"

Jensen's voice was like whiplash and he felt the body clench around his fingers when the man flinched; Jensen directed all his focus to the small bundle of nerves, causing the man to arch up again, his hips rising off the bed. The motion made his cock slide through Jensen's fingers and the man groaned, eyes fluttering shut; Jensen didn't have time to tell him to before he opened his eyes again and looked at Jensen pleadingly.

"Feels...good," the man practically sobbed. "Don't want it to..."

"What you _want_ doesn't matter," Jensen said, his fingers flexing over the head of the man's cock, the tip of one finger pressing into the slit. "What _I_ want is what matters, and I want you _begging _."__

__The man's eyes opened wide and he shook his head, but even in denial, he was unable to stop his body from rocking between the grip on his cock and the fingers in his ass._ _

__"You're close to coming, aren't you?" Jensen asked, pushing a third finger into his body._ _

__A sharp cry left the man's lips, but Jensen quickly moved his hand down the man's cock and squeezed hard at the base, forcing the orgasm back._ _

__"No," Jensen said. "You only come when I let you."_ _

__The man sobbed and his hips stuttered in Jensen's grasp. Jensen scissored his fingers before he pulled them back out and circled them around the slightly puffy rim, muscle softened and slick with the oil he had worked into the skin._ _

__"Don't you want to come?" Jensen asked, a steel glint in his voice._ _

__The prisoner groaned but still refused to speak the words Jensen wanted; he needed to push further. He was tired of waiting and he knew what he wanted, and Jensen always got what he wanted. He leaned forward and trailed his tongue over the tip of the man's cock, thick liquid collecting on his tongue as the man cried out, his hips snapping up and his cock pressing against Jensen's lips._ _

__"Beg for it," Jensen said._ _

__The man shook his head and the muscles under Jensen’s hands tightened with his struggle to stay still, but Jensen wasn’t having any of that. He locked his lips around the crown and sucked hard enough that the man’s body began to arch again, but Jensen used his free hand to hold the man down as he pressed two fingers deep inside him._ _

__Tight, scorching heat surrounded his fingers as Jensen searched for the man's prostate; when he found it, the man mewled, broken sounds spilled from his lips as his hips strained against Jensen's grasp. Jensen's own cock was rock hard and leaking pre-come on the sheet, but he ignored it; he knew where he wanted to come and it wasn't time for that yet. Instead, he flicked his tongue over the sensitive vein on the underside of the taller man's cock._ _

__"Please," the man whimpered, trying to push into Jensen's mouth again._ _

__Jensen withdrew and listened to the man gasp when cold air replaced the mouth around his cock; Jensen looked up to find slanted eyes locked on him._ _

__"Please what?" he asked._ _

__He flicked his tongue out to gather pre-come from the head of the man's cock. He grasped it tight and rubbed insistently at the bundle of nerves until the body splayed out before him was trembling with each touch, the man's balls tight and ready, tender enough that he gasped when Jensen reached down to lick them._ _

__"Tell me!" he ordered._ _

__"Please don't... Please, let me, God, please," the man gasped._ _

__"That's not good enough," Jensen said. He licked up the man's cock. "Beg me for it."_ _

__He pushed a third finger inside and twisted his hand, sweet friction surrounding him; he bent down to bite at the inside of the man's thigh, hard enough to bruise without breaking the pale skin. When he looked up at the man, he saw the emotions battling clearly behind his eyes, the need to come mixed with humiliation and fear and something that he thought was anger at his own body for betraying him._ _

__"Beg!" Jensen said again. "Beg or I will find something to push inside you, something to keep you hard and on the edge for hours, days!"_ _

__The man's eyes went wide and Jensen almost expected him to protest; instead, it seemed that the threat had finally broken the man, words spilling from his lips as if from a broken dam._ _

__"Please let me come, _please_. I need it, I need it so much; I promise I'll be good, I will, just...please, _please_."_ _

__Jensen didn't doubt that half of the pleading was for his ministrations to end, but he didn't care, not when each word and half-shocked sob went straight to his hard cock._ _

__"If I let you come, will you spread for me and let me fuck you?" Jensen asked, pressing hard against the man's sweet spot._ _

__"Anything! Please, I'll do anything!" the man sobbed._ _

__With an animalistic grin, Jensen let go of the man's cock, his fingers fluttering under the crown; that was all it took to make the man come with a scream, ropes of come shooting up his body as Jensen's fingers kept working, pushing the orgasm further and further until the man was whimpering at each touch, his body melting into the bed._ _

__Jensen pulled his fingers out of the man's body and looked at where his hole was still gaping open from taking Jensen’s fingers; he reached up to gather the man's come and he slicked his own cock with it._ _

__"You came with my fingers in your ass. Felt good, didn't it?"_ _

__The man was crying, his cheeks burning red with the humiliation; the sight made Jensen even harder and he pushed the man's legs further apart, aligning himself in the V of the man's legs._ _

__"One day, you’ll come with my cock in you. Come so hard while I fuck you, feel that little hole of yours clamp down around my cock."_ _

__He swiped a few droplets of come from the man's belly and reached up to push his fingers into the man's mouth. The sudden motion almost made the man gag on the digits, but Jensen didn't give him time to adjust to the three fingers in his mouth before he pushed his cock into his ass. Despite having had Jensen's fingers in him mere moments before, the man was surprisingly tight; if his hiss was anything to go by, the intrusion hurt._ _

__It was good. The man's pain made it all so much better; Jensen didn't bother to let the man get used to the stretch before he pulled back out, leaving only the head of his cock to keep him open._ _

__"Did it feel good?" Jensen asked again. The man shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut._ _

__Jensen pushed back in with a hard thrust that dragged a keening sound from his prisoner, and when Jensen slowly pulled back out, he repeated the question._ _

__"Did it feel good?" he hissed. “Answer me!"_ _

__"Yes," the man cried out. Jensen rewarded him with a hard thrust inside, sheathing himself in tight heat._ _

__He didn't bother trying to get the man to speak again. He had gotten what he wanted and all he was needed now was his own release; he held the man's legs apart and started fucking him hard. The sound of skin meeting skin filled the room, punctuated by the man's sobs and moans, pained sounds as Jensen used him. He reached down and traced his fingers around the skin that was stretched around his cock; the man tensed at his touch, his body going even tighter around Jensen's cock. The sensation tore Jensen’s orgasm through him, hard and sudden, and he groaned when his hips stuttered to a halt, his cock pulsing into the prisoner’s body._ _

__Jensen pulled out slowly. The man on the bed whimpered when Jensen's cock slid free of him, but Jensen didn't let him rest, instead pushing two fingers back inside the hole and feeling his own come coat his fingers. He withdrew them and raised them to the man's lips._ _

__"Taste me," he said, painting the man's mouth with come._ _

__The man licked his lips clean and Jensen saw resignation in his eyes when he parted his lips for Jensen's fingers._ _

__"Good boy," Jensen said in a low rumble._ _

__The man shivered for a second but he didn't stop sucking Jensen's fingers clean._ _

__Jensen knew that the man's desperate begging was something he would like to hear a lot more of in the future. He stretched out beside his prisoner, already making new plans._ _

____

~*~


	7. Chapter 7

_**~Jared~** _

The bed dipped when Jensen lay down beside Jared, but it wasn't really enough to make Jared react; it scared him, his stomach rolling, but he had gotten used to the other man lying beside him. And since Jensen had forced him down on his knees and made Jared suck his cock after dinner, there was a chance that the man actually wanted to sleep instead of causing Jared any more humiliation.

"Go to sleep, boy, it's a big day tomorrow," he said.

From anyone else, Jared might have thought the words were supposed to be soothing, but from Nordaschir's master, he knew that they were a thinly veiled threat, a promise of pain and tears. Jared lay still, his muscles tensed, and it was hours after the other man had fallen asleep before Jared was swept up into a world of dark nightmares.

~*~

Jared woke up in a haze of pleasure, his entire body consumed by it as he squirmed before his sleep-befuddled brain caught up.

"See, your body wants this," a velvety smooth voice penetrated his foggy mind. "You should stop struggling against it and just be what you're meant to be."

Jared knew that voice; even with sleep and pleasure dulling his senses, it was familiar enough to send a frightened shiver down his spine. He knew better than to respond 'no' as he wanted to, but he couldn't stop himself from gasping out Jensen's name when the man pushed a slick finger inside him. It sounded too little like a protest, even to his own ears, and he knew that if he opened his eyes, he would see the other man smirking down at him. Humiliation battled with arousal as Jensen's knowing fingers worked the hard length of Jared's cock and the finger inside him sought out the hidden spot that never failed to drag a reaction from him. Then suddenly, both hands were removed and Jared found himself gasping while Jensen moved away; he was a second away from begging when he got a grip on himself and opened his eyes. 

"Good to see you're really awake," Jensen said. “Now hold that thought until later." He looked pointedly at Jared's erection while he pulled on soft black pants.

Jared's mind had problems catching up with what was happening and his cock was still throbbing between his legs when Jensen moved towards the door, shrugging into a form-fitting black tunic. Jared watched him withdraw the key to the door, the key that Jared had yet to figure out where Jensen kept. The click of the lock was loud in the room where the only other sound was Jared's ragged breathing.

"I’ll be gone a few hours," Jensen said. "If you come while I'm away, I will _beat_ you until you can't sit for a week. Got it?"

The casual way he threw the words out wilted Jared's arousal within seconds; there was no doubt in his mind that Jensen would deal out the punishment. 

"Yes...Master."

Jensen's eyes narrowed at the hesitation in Jared's voice and for a second, Jared thought his punishment would come then and there; instead, Jensen nodded and opened the door.

"You're lucky I'm in a good mood," he said with steel in his voice. "I’m getting some interesting new things today, and trust me when I say I’ll try them out on you."

The door slammed shut behind him and Jared heard the lock click, followed by retreating footsteps that drifted off into silence. Jensen's words rang loud in his mind and he tried to swallow down a low whimper; he let himself curl up into a ball and for a few long minutes, fear flooded him. He was getting used to the man’s day-to-day treatment of him; the thought that he could get used to rape made his blood run cold, but if he didn't fight it, there was no pain, and if he was really lucky, the green-eyed man would even skip forcing pleasure on him. Those were the good days. 

But the idea of Jensen bringing in 'things' had Jared terrified, his mind playing out scenarios of pain and humiliation that he had no doubt would become real. Maybe even worse things than he could imagine; the other man’s cruelty seemed endless.

"I’ve got to get away," Jared mumbled into his pillow. 

He tried to remember how long he had been a prisoner, but the days had blended together into a sea of degradation and he couldn't really tell one from the other, except for the bad days when he fell asleep with tears drying on his cheeks and his own blood staining the sheets. Long weeks, months, and he wondered if his sister was married yet, if the sacrifice he had made had led to something good. He would give anything to see her again.

~*~

Jared was curled up in bed when the door opened and Misha stepped inside, his cold blue eyes unseeing as he walked over and placed clean, neatly-folded clothes at the foot of the bed before stepping back out and bringing in a wash cloth and a bucket filled with warm water.

"You know what Master expects," he said when he put them down. 

"Why do you hate me, Misha?" Jared asked. The man’s blue gaze finally turned to meet his.

"You think I care enough to hate you, slave?" he gritted out. "You are nothing, and the second Master is bored with you, you will be tossed away like the garbage you are."

Anger rose in Jared; deep inside, he knew that it was really Jensen he was angry at, but he could never act on that. Misha was the one that he could scream at, just as Misha seemed to focus his own anger on Jared.

"Just like you were?" Jared spat, and at the widening of Misha's eyes, the way the man bit down on his lower lip, Jared knew that he had hit a nerve. 

"Don't talk about me like that; don't think that you know _anything_ about me," Misha snarled. "Master has trust in me. I'm important."

Before Jared could say another word, the man spun around and left the room, slamming the door so hard behind him that the glass windows splintered; for a moment, Jared expected them to break. He sat still on the bed for some time before he realized what had been missing after the slam: The click of the lock.

"No," Jared gasped. "It can't..."

He wanted to run to the door, but he forced himself to move slowly until he was close enough to reach out and clutch his long fingers around the knob; even then he hesitated, not wanting to find the door locked as it had been since that first day, but he took a deep breath and turned. 

The door opened on silent hinges and Jared’s breath caught in his throat; every part of him wanted to run down the corridor, but he knew this would be his one and only chance. He needed to think about it. He took a step back and let the door slide shut again, going to put on the new clothes, his fingers shaking all the way; he had to force his breathing to level out. Nothing in the room, besides the clothes, would offer help; nothing could be used as a weapon. Jared looked around his comfortable prison one last time before he opened the door and moved into the corridor outside, letting the door shut behind him. He started moving slowly, hyper-aware of the sound of his feet against the stone floor. 

A few times, Jared though he heard footsteps, and every second, he was ready to run if he was discovered, but he managed to reach the front gates without being spotted; he eased the doors open carefully, cringing when they creaked, but no shout echoed behind him and he slipped outside without being seen. Cold winds tore at his too-thin clothes and the world was covered in a soft layer of snow, but it wasn't enough to stop Jared; the chill went straight though his soft leather shoes when he broke into a run across the castle yard. It didn't matter that he was cold, it didn't matter that his teeth was already chattering—not when freedom was so close.

~*~

The wind howled, tearing through his thin clothes, and the cold made his skin hurt, but he kept on pushing forward through the snow, ignoring the weather and repeating the mantra of 'free, free, free' on a loop in his mind. He didn't know how much time had passed since he had left the castle behind; it felt like days already, but from the position of the sun behind the clouds, he knew it could only have been hours. Hours of woods and wind and the first flakes of a new snow falling down.

Jared whimpered at the silhouette of a dead tree in front of him; he knew he had seen it before, which meant that he had moved in a circle—he wasn’t any further away from Nordaschir and his chances of survival were diminishing by the minute. 

"No," Jared said to himself, delighting in his freedom to use the word. "I won’t die here; I can't...die from this."

He frowned at the tree and then set off down a path he hoped would take him away from the dark castle and towards the edge of the woods, but he wasn't sure anymore, not about anything. When he found a big opening in the woods, a plane of untouched snow, he didn't even think twice before walking into it. He was several steps out before he realized his mistake: A creaking sound filled the air and Jared didn't have time to turn around before the ground disappeared beneath him, giving way to cold black water as the hidden ice broke beneath his feet. 

The sudden freeze surrounding his body forced all the air out of his lungs, and if Jared thought he had been cold before, it was nothing compared to being engulfed by the water; the only thing that saved him was the fact that he hadn't gotten far out. He could feel the bottom of the lake below his feet and started struggling towards the shoreline; the ice broke when he tried to crawl up on it and wind cut at his skin where it was exposed. And then he heard it: Salvation in the form of hooves thundering against frozen ground. Even though he recognized the figure sliding off the big black horse, Jared could only feel relief. He had done what Jensen wanted to stay alive, and he wasn't any more prepared to die in a cold winter lake than he had been at the hands of the green-eyed man. The man who walked to the edge of the lake and reached out to grab Jared's hand, pulling him out of the water.

Jared wasn't in pain anymore. The cold didn't bother him, and he knew that was bad, but despite everything, he could still feel frigidity radiating from Jensen when the man grabbed hard at his hair and forced Jared to meet his gaze.

"I thought I made it clear: You belong to me. Your _life_ belongs to me, and only _I_ get to decide what you _do_ with it. You do not get to decide that, you do _not_ get to put _my_ belongings at danger."

A shiver ran through Jared, making his teeth shatter, but it had nothing to do with the cold and everything to do with the deadly tone of Jensen's voice. He might survive, but there was no chance Jensen would ever give him the opportunity to escape again, and when Jared pushed himself up onto the horse, he felt his own fate seal shut.

~*~

Jared was barely aware of getting back to the castle; he only knew that it took too little time compared to how long he had been walking. He must have been walking in circles longer than he thought, but when he got inside, the warm air of the castle hurt where it made contact with his skin. Several servants helped Jared up to the bedroom and stripped him of his clothes, and despite his mind’s efforts to shut down, he did notice that Misha wasn't one of them. 

"Wrap him in blankets," Jensen ordered.

"Master, shouldn't we pour a hot bath?" one of the servants dared to ask. 

"No," Jensen said. "It would heat him up too quickly; get his temperature up and then we can talk about a bath. Do it. Now!"

The last word was a whiplash and Jared found himself in bed at once, wrapped in blankets that slowly restored his body heat as he drifted in and out of sleep, his limbs burning; the only thing that pulled him out of his painful daze was the hard tone of Jensen's voice, but for the first time, it wasn't directed at him.

"I want an explanation as to how you could have let this happen."

Jared opened his eyes to see Jensen standing beside the bed, his back to Jared and his posture that of an animal stalking its prey.

"Master, I swear I didn't _let_ this happen," Misha answered.

The servant’s voice was different from what Jared had heard before; when the man spoke to Jared, it had always been with a superior tone, but standing face-to-face with Jensen, he was trembling, his blue eyes terrified.

"Are you saying he let himself out?" Jensen asked, his voice hard as steel.

"We argued and... I'm sorry, Master," Misha whimpered. "I must have forgotten... Master, please."

"You argued with him? May I ask _why_ you argued with him? He is _mine_ ; what right do you have to question anything?"

Misha took a small step back and no words came from his parted lips; when Jensen took a step forward, the man flinched away for just a second, but it was enough. Jensen’s hand came down on Misha’s face in an instant. The sound of the slap rang out loud and Jared was barely able to hold back a whimper of fear and sympathy. 

"It seems I was wrong to place my trust in you," Jensen purred. "You clearly weren't ready for it, and I think I need to remind you of your place."

The servant turned pale and Jared wanted to say something, to stop Jensen, but what self preservation he had left prevented him from doing so; he watched in silence as Misha trembled and Jensen reached out to cup the smaller man's face in one strong hand, tilting his head back and stroking one finger over the red mark blossoming on his cheek. 

"I think it's time for you to visit the chamber again," Jensen said, scarily soft. 

Two servants entered the room then, taking Misha by the arms and pulling him back. Jared almost gagged at the thought of the small, dark chamber, and he wished he could somehow stop it, but he know he couldn't; he was just about to look away when Misha's gaze snapped to him. 

"You," the man spat. "You ruin everything! This is all your fault! If you hadn't..."

Jensen turned around and met Jared's gaze for just a second before he moved forward and his big hand closed around Misha's throat, cutting off whatever the man had been about to say.

"It's surprising that you think your opinion matters," Jensen said. "It's interesting that you talk when I haven't allowed it."

He looked at the other two servants; both were pale but standing their ground, their gazes locked ahead and carefully directed away from any of the three men. 

"Take him away and lock him up," Jensen said. "And...I don't think he deserves clothes. Do you?"

"No, Master," the men answered quickly.

"Misha, Misha, Misha," Jensen said. "You'll live, this time, because I don't feel like training up another servant, but believe me, if you ever talk like that again, your death will not come until you're begging for it."

Misha crumbled and he was dragged out of the room as sobs shook his body, but Jensen had already dismissed him and turned towards Jared, his eyes hard as emeralds.

"You're too weak now, but don't think for a second that I won’t punish you for putting my property at risk. You don't do _anything_ without my consent. You're only breathing because I let you; don't you ever dare to forget that again."

Jared could only swallow and nod, praying that he wouldn't be put into the isolation chamber again, and hoping that Jensen didn't have worse punishment in mind. When he drifted off to sleep, calculating green eyes were the last thing he saw.

~*~


	8. Chapter 8

_**~Jensen~** _

The scream from behind the thick door was like music to Jensen's ears; each time he heard Misha beat against it, a small smile curved his lips. He ran his fingers over the dark wood before he turned around and left. After four days, the man was screaming less and less; Jensen doubted he would last two more before he would have to be taken outside. Then again, being let out didn't mean the punishment was done. And until then, Jensen had other ways to pass the time. He left the narrow corridor, the screams of his servant fading as he turned the corner and headed for his more private sanctum. 

One of his servants stood waiting at the stairs leading down to the bathing area, his back rigid and his eyes avoiding Jensen's; Jensen liked the new fear he saw there. It wasn't until Misha's little slip-up that he had realized how comfortable his servants had become; he craved the scent of their fear, their eyes that didn't dare to meet his and their relieved exhales that he heard when he left a room. 

"Is he prepared?" Jensen asked. 

"Yes, Master," the servant answered quickly. "Robin is with him—we didn't want to leave him alone with...all that water."

Jensen nodded. It was good that his servants had learnt the lesson he had turned Misha into. 

"And the supplies?" Jensen asked as they walked down the stairs.

"It's all there, Master," the servant said. "Just as you asked, the table has been set up."

"Good, good." Jensen pushed the door open and stepped into the heavy humidity of the big bath room.

His prisoner stood in the middle of the room with the servant, Robin, a few feet away. From the look on the tall man's face, he was aware of why the other man was staying with him, and for a moment, Jensen saw anger and fear in his hazel eyes; the second the man saw him, his expression went blank and unreadable. Jensen bit back a smile; his servants weren’t the only ones to have learnt the lesson. 

Jensen could understand the man's fear. He wanted it; that was why he had ordered his servant to arrange the slanted table before taking his prisoner down for his bath, after all. He wished he could have seen the tall man's face when he first spotted the thing. It looked intimidating and cruel and Jensen knew he would love carrying out what he had in store for his prisoner. His two servants stood behind the taller man, big towels in their hands as they waited for his sign, but he wanted to drag it all out just a bit longer. 

"I see that you've regained your strength," Jensen pointed out.

The brown-haired man nodded, knowing better than to protest. Jensen listened to the steady sound of the man's breathing, no longer the wheezing it had been the first two days; he liked that the man was finally strong enough for Jensen to put his ideas into reality. 

"That's good." Jensen walked closer. "Because I think it's time that you learnt to take care of my property, don't you?"

"Yes, Master," the man breathed, barely more than a whisper. 

"I was thinking," Jensen went on in a soft tone that he knew scared the man more than any screaming would. "Since you're clearly so willing to drown..."

The man's eyes went wide and Jensen nodded to his servants. They both stepped forward and wrapped the tall man in towels, pushing him down on the slanted table with his head at the lower end and carefully strapping him in place. Jensen watched his fear turn into pure terror, the sweetness of it filling him up and making him smile; a small surge of pride filled him when the man didn't struggle. He was already better trained than Jensen ever could have dreamed. 

His two servants turned and left the room once the prisoner was tied down, leather and chains preventing him from moving and the towels keeping him from causing himself harm when he struggled. Jensen knew that he would struggle.

When the two men were alone, Jensen walked to the table and knelt beside it.

"Do you think you’ll like this?" Jensen asked quietly.

"No, Master," the tall man answered. Jensen heard the fear in his voice.

"I don't think you will, either," Jensen said. "But me? _I_ will enjoy every second."

With that, he tossed a cloth over the man's face, the fabric clinging when a surprised gasp pulled it against his mouth and nostrils. 

"Maybe this will make you think twice before you gamble with your life,” Jensen said. “With _my_ property."

He reached down for one of the buckets of water standing beside the table; the man trembled, tensing as he waited for whatever was about to happen. Jensen drew out the man's fear a few moments longer before he dumped the water over his cloth-covered face.

His prisoner's reaction was instantaneous, the man’s whole body going rigid as he gagged, fighting for air and against the straps securing him to the table; Jensen could taste his panic before he stopped the water flow. The man gasped, his body quivering as he fought to suck air in through the cloth covering his face.

"Drowning isn't so desirable after all, is it?" Jensen asked smoothly. Before the man could gather himself together enough to answer, Jensen tipped the bucket again.

The man struggled, trying to move, but the tightly wrapped towels combined with the leather bonds left him without any range of movement and he had no choice but to take it, unable even to scream as the sensation of drowning stole all air from him.

"See? This is what happens when you put yourself in jeopardy," Jensen purred as he knelt down beside the man, his lips close to his ear. The man shivered when hot breath touched his skin.

From the short distance, Jensen watched the man swallow hard, his Adam's apple moving with the strained motion. Jensen didn't know if the man was gasping for air or trying to keep himself from crying.

"Can you talk?" Jensen asked.

The man shivered and even though his mouth opened, no words came out as tears rolled down his cheeks. For a moment, Jensen considered letting him go, but his own cock was a hard, stretching fabric of his pants tight, and he couldn't deny himself the pleasure that his prisoner's fear awarded him. He thought he saw the man's lips form the word 'no' when he put the fabric back, but that only made his will to repeat his actions even stronger; the man's body tensed up even before the water hit. He let the water pour longer than he had before, saw the man's frantic fight against the restraints as his body fought for air; Jensen trailed one hand down his own body and pressed the heel of his palm against his throbbing erection.

When the water ran out, he pulled the cloth away, the man below him coughing weakly as sobs shook him hard despite the cuffs. In his wet eyes, Jensen saw something crumble. He tossed the cloth down on the floor and released the straps, starting with the ones that kept his head in place and his arms chained to the table.

"Hold on to me," he said, surprised when the man didn't hesitate but clung to Jensen with a fierceness that made him smile into man’s hair, darkened by water.

The man’s firm grip prevented him from falling to the ground when Jensen released the rest of the ties and chains; he eased the man to the floor, supporting his weight when the man's legs gave way beneath him. Hard sobs tore persistently through the man's body, but where Jensen had expected him to flinch away, he instead clung to him like his life depended on it. Jensen smirked at the thought.

It did, after all.

~*~

Jensen looked down at the man sleeping in his bed. It had been a long time before the man had stopped crying, and still he had clung to Jensen until sleep swept up and claimed him. The knowledge made Jensen smile as he walked over to a locked cupboard in the corner and opened it, carefully cataloguing the contents and every now and then looking back over his shoulder to make sure the man was still asleep.

He moved his fingers over the smooth leathers of several whips within the cabinet and for a moment, held a black collar in his hands as he watched the man sleep. The day wasn't too far away; he wanted to collar the man while it would still cause that sweet humiliation. Next, he moved his fingers over an array of blindfolds and gags, hard leather that was yet to be softened with use, and a cold smile played on his lips as he imagined how the prisoner would look with tears wetting a blindfold. The thought was enough to make Jensen's cock harden.

He was torn from his fantasies by a quiet rap of knuckles against the door. Robin stepped inside, his gaze drifting to the sleeping man and then quickly over to Jensen.

"Master," he said softly so as not to wake the prisoner. "We think Misha might be close to going into shock."

Jensen sighed exasperatedly. He had hoped to keep the man in the chamber for another day, but apparently that wasn't going to happen. He was still amazed by how long his new prisoner had lasted in the dark.

"Fine," he snapped. "Get him out of there and get him cleaned up. Bring him to me in the morning."

The servant nodded and started to exit, but Jensen called him back before the door could close.

"Oh, and Robin? Do give me warning before you do so," he said. "There's something I want Misha to see."

Robin nodded and closed the door behind him as Jensen closed the door to the cupboard. He locked the main door before lying down beside the man on the bed, ignoring the urge to use him for his own pleasure. It would be so much better in the morning.

~*~

Jensen knew that his prisoner was awake even before he himself had opened his eyes. The tension radiating from the man was sweeter than anything else and he was just about to reach out for him when a knock sounded on the door.

"Yes?" he called out. Beside him, the prisoner flinched slightly but didn't move away.

"Master, we've done as you asked," Robin called out from the other side of the door. "Should we..."

"Of course," Jensen interrupted. He didn't want the man beside him to realize what was about to happen.

He heard the servant on the other side of the door move away and turned to the body laid out beside him, running a hand over the man's hip and flat belly before they reached a nipple. Jensen slowly rubbed at the small nub, already knowing each and every sensitive spot. A smirk curved his lips as the man went hard, as obvious _need_ starting to build inside him. Jensen knew he had limited time, so he reached down and wrapped his fingers around the man's hardening cock, stroking it to full hardness, sure fingers sliding up to gather the pre-come leaking when the man moaned and tried to arch up into his touch. 

Part of him wanted to flip his slave over and push in deep and hard, bury himself in tight heat, but what was about to happen was about more than his own pleasure. Instead, Jensen withdrew his fingers from the man's body and moved until he was leaning against the headboard. He saw the moment realization flickered into the prisoner's gaze as a deep blush stained his cheeks, but the man knew better than to protest; he turned over and moved until he was kneeling between Jensen's spread legs, his hands resting on Jensen's thighs. 

Jensen knew it was a struggle for the man every single time, obeying Jensen's unspoken orders without any complaints; when Jensen ordered him with just a gaze, he gave the man the illusion of doing things in accordance with his own free will. He had often seen anger flash in the man's eyes, but he saw nothing of that in the prisoner kneeling before of him now. Something had broken deep inside the man when he had been returned to the castle; the way he had clung to Jensen meant more than Jensen had understood. The thought made him smile and he reached forward to place one hand on the back of the man's head. The prisoner licked his lips and leaned forward without Jensen having to push him down, his soft tongue lapping over the head of Jensen's cock and licking up the pre-come that had gathered there before he sealed his lips tight around the crown and sank down.

Wet heat surrounded Jensen's cock when the man lowered his head, inch by inch, his tongue pressing against the thick vein on the underside. Jensen had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep himself from groaning out loud; instead he tangled his hand in the man's hair, listening for approaching footsteps. When he heard them, he started talking to drown out the sound. 

"C'mon, I know you can take more. You’re well trained, boy," he said, tightening his grip on the man's hair. 

A vibration shuddered through his body when the man whimpered around the length in his mouth, but he proved Jensen right by slowly sliding even further down. The man seemed to be reaching his limit when the lock clicked and the door was pushed open. Jensen felt him try to pull back, the hands that had been resting on his thighs digging nails into Jensen's skin, but Jensen’s hand on the back of the prisoner's head kept him in place; Jensen looked up to see Misha being pushed into the room before the door closed behind him.

Misha's gaze snapped to the two men, falling down to where the prisoner's pink lips were stretched wide around Jensen's hard cock. For the briefest of moments, Jensen saw anger fade into hurt before the man's expression went blank.

"Have you enjoyed the last few days?" Jensen asked, keeping his gaze locked on his servant.

A violent shiver ran through the man and for a second, his eyes drifted shut before he swallowed hard and met Jensen's eyes.

"No, Master," Misha said in a very subdued tone. 

The prisoner whimpered and made a small gagging sound and Jensen released his grip only so much that he could slide up enough to breath, but not enough that Jensen’s cock left his lips. It seemed like the man knew what was expected of him as he returned to sucking, a wet slide up and down, hard enough that his cheeks hollowed out. Jensen almost wished he could see through Misha's eyes; the prisoner must look amazing with his head buried in Jensen's crotch and his ass up in the air, almost an invitation. Both Jensen and Misha knew, though, that Jensen wasn't one for sharing, even if his prisoner wasn't so aware of that.

"So you’ll take better care of my property now?" Jensen asked, unable to cover his breathless tone when the man on his knees took his cock all the way.

Misha nodded and resolutely kept his gaze off man working Jensen closer and closer to orgasm.

"Of course, Master," he said. "I'm...I'm very sorry my actions caused harm to your property."

The brown-haired man squirmed; when he looked down, Jensen could see heat stain his cheeks red and his eyelashes clumped together by unshed tears. The sight of his lips shining with saliva and pre-come was almost enough to push Jensen over the edge, but his self-control held him together and he looked back up to the man standing at the door.

"You will not keep your private room," Jensen said coldly. "You will sleep with the others in the servants’ quarters until you've proven yourself again."

The blue-eyed man nodded and his shoulders fell ever so slightly; Jensen knew that Misha had been very proud of being the only servant with his own room. Even if it was barely more than a cell, it had been his. Jensen had no intention of letting the man have it back, no matter how things played out; no matter what the trembling servant might think, Jensen was not one to forgive.

"You will do what I say, when I say it," Jensen continued even though he knew those words were the foundation of every one of his servants’ lives. "And you will make sure my property is taken care of at all times." Misha's gaze flickered down for just a second. "If I ever catch you even _thinking_ a disrespectful _thought_ , you will find that the chamber is downright comfortable compared to what I can do."

That made the man's eyes go wide and the breath hitch in his throat before he nodded violently; Jensen’s arousal rose a notch at the pure terror in his eyes. He removed his hand from his prisoner's head and smiled when the man didn't even falter but kept on working Jensen's cock, his tongue sliding warm against the underside before he moved up and pressed it into the slit to gather the leaking pre-come. Jensen put his hands down on the sheet, forcing himself to relax and not let the intense pleasure show on his face.

"Will we have any more problems?" Jensen asked coldly.

"No, Master," Misha answered at once.

Jensen looked critically into the man's face, but whatever animosity had been there before seemed to have been wiped away by the days spent in the small dark room. Jensen saw the fear he had once instilled in Misha back in full force. 

"Good,” Jensen said dismissively. “You can leave now." He took his eyes off Misha to focus on the man on the bed instead.

He heard Misha’s low “Yes, Master” before the servant turned and left the room; for a moment, he let himself bask in how broken the man had sounded, but then he gave the prisoner all his focus.

"You can stop now," he said tonelessly.

The man pulled back and Jensen's cock slid from his lips with a wet pop; the man pushed himself up until his back was straight, but his head was lowered and Jensen couldn't see his face.

"Look at me," Jensen ordered.

Hazel eyes snapped up to meet his and Jensen saw humiliation clear in the man's face, but when he let his gaze drift down over the man's naked body, he also saw that his prisoner was hard, his cock full of blood as pre-come made the head glisten.

"You liked that," Jensen said. They both knew that it wasn't a question. 

The smile on Jensen's lips was purely predatory and the man in front of him shivered visibly, but when Jensen motioned for him to continue, he sank back down and wrapped his soft lips back around Jensen's cock. When Jensen spilled, hot and warm, into his mouth, the prisoner’s hard sob was preceded by a soft moan.

~*~


	9. Chapter 9

_**~Jared~** _

Jared felt tears leak from his eyes and wet the cloth tied over his eyes, but he refused to let out the hard sobs rising up from his chest. The shackles fitted around his wrists were a familiar weight, hard steel against scarred skin, and Jared was beyond trying to fight against them; he knew it wouldn’t make a difference, focusing instead on the stone floor under his knees. Anything was better than the two oil-slicked fingers working their way into his ass.

"You open up so easily for me," Jensen said, eerily detached. 

Behind the dark blindfold, Jared squeezed his eyes shut in a vain attempt to block out the words. Jensen kept on talking, forcing him to listen.

"Do you know how long you've been here, boy?" Jensen asked as he corkscrewed his fingers, brushing against Jared’s prostate; only willpower and a terrifying familiarity kept Jared from bucking against him. "Two months and twenty-five days. I'm thinking there needs to be something special once we reach the three month mark."

Jared knew full well that anything that Jensen considered 'special' would most likely make him cry and scream in humiliation and pain. That fear was enough to distract him from the mingled burn and shame of Jensen replacing his fingers with the hard length of his cock, pushing deep inside Jared's body. There was something about the blindfold, cutting off one of his senses, that made Jared feel more vulnerable than he had in several weeks. 

"It's time, boy," Jensen groaned when his hips snapped forward. "Gonna put my mark on you, brand you mine."

Those words spurred Jared to fight his shackles hard enough for the metal to cut into his wrists; warm blood trickled down his skin as warm come flooded his insides. He was still sobbing when Jensen unlocked his wrists and licked the blood away from his skin.

~*~

Jared was tied to a hard bench, his limbs already aching from the uncomfortable position; Misha looked down on him from the doorway, but where there previously had been contempt and anger, Jared could only see meek blankness.

"Master is almost ready," Misha said in a low voice. "He asked me to prepare you."

Jared refused to demonstrate that he had in any way heard the man's words; he refused to let Jensen do anything. It wouldn't matter if Jared agreed or not, but it was the only small thing he could cling to; he closed his eyes when Misha walked forward. Misha did something at his side, water splashing before a cold, damp washcloth was dragged over his bare chest; a low hiss escaped his lips when it was dragged over his nipples. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he realised that it was the first time since he had been brought back to Nordaschir, since his punishment, that anyone besides Jensen had touched him; the press of Misha's hand, even through the cloth, felt weird and unfamiliar.

"Will it..." Jared had to swallow before he went on. "Will it hurt?"

Misha didn't still his hand in its cleansing path at Jared’s words, but he dipped the cloth in water again before he returned to swipe it down over Jared's hip, his blue eyes locked on its motion over Jared's skin.

"Yes," he said, so quietly that Jared barely heard it. "It hurts a lot."

Jared pulled in shaky breath and nodded, his eyes drifting shut as he fought against the burn of tears behind his eyelids. 

"It will make you his," Misha went on as he moved the cloth lower, dragging it softly over Jared's crotch before he continued down his thighs. "Everyone who sees it will know who you belong to."

With a low sob, Jared forced his eyes open, his gaze drifting down to the mark on Misha's hand, the clear mark of ownership that would soon be on his own body as well. Even though a part of him had known for weeks that it was coming, it hadn't felt real until he was splayed out on a table, waiting for Jensen to hurt him so very permanently. He wanted to ask more, but before he could open his mouth, the door slammed open and Jensen stepped inside, his eyes raking over the two men in the room.

"Is he ready?" Jensen asked, clearly addressing Misha even though his gaze stopped at Jared.

"Yes, Master," Misha said. He stepped away from the table, the cloth in one hand and the bucket of water in the other. 

"Then leave us, Misha," Jensen said.

“Yes, Master.”

Misha left the room on silent feet, leaving Jared alone with his captor. Jared tried to not look at the items the man was bringing out, but when he put a small pot filled with glowing embers next to the table, it was a very hard thing to ignore; combined with two chisels clanking against the table, it made bile rise in Jared's throat. Jensen moved to make sure the restraints that kept Jared chained to the table were firm and then reached for the first chisel, shoving it into the embers.

"I haven’t decided where to mark you," Jensen said as he trailed one finger up Jared's naked body. "There are so many parts of you I _want_ to mark; this will just be the first."

Jared wanted to scream his rebellion, but he knew that it was no use, that the other man would only revel in the extra pain he would get to cause Jared as punishment for his protest, so he bit down hard on his lower lip and stared at the chisel, the metal red by the time Jensen reached out to retrieve it. He stood still beside the table, his green gaze roaming over Jared's body; any lingering hopes that Jared’s mark might be as small as Misha's dissipated when a strong hand spread out across his chest, right over the heart. 

"Here," Jensen said with dark conviction. "This will hurt."

The last words were spoken with a predatory smile before Jensen leaned forward and touched the red hot chisel to Jared's unmarred skin. A scream left Jared's lips before he could stop it and he watched as his obvious pain made Jensen's eyes darken with lust; at the second press of the chisel, he managed to stay quiet, only uttering a soft whimper.

"No," Jensen said as he pressed the chisel down again, close to Jared's nipple. "Don't be silent; I want to hear your sweet pain. Deny me that and I promise, I'll give you a real reason to scream."

Jensen moved to put the other chisel on the embers, a rounded one that soon flared red; he swapped the two before he kept on working on the design. Each press of metal against his skin made Jared sob in pain; he didn't hold the sounds back any more, but he refused to scream again, even though the pain in combination with the smell of his own burnt flesh was enough to make his belly roll, nausea threatening to overpower him. The green-eyed man's hand was sure in its burning, the symbol forming around Jared’s nipple to cover as big a place on his skin as Jensen's hand had before. Jared got lost in the pain and humiliation of being marked; he had never before felt as much a piece of property as he did when Jensen scarred his body with the hateful marks.

"Almost done," Jensen said. Jared didn't know if it was minutes or hours that had passed since the pain began; all he could feel was fire, the smell choking him. "My mark fits you."

Jared closed his eyes to fight back the tears, but he still felt them fall from his eyes; when the chisel was finally removed, he wasn't even surprised to feel a finger swipe up their wetness before it pushed in between his lips and Jared tasted his own humiliation.

"Now I just need to..."

Jared hissed when Jensen dragged a barely-damp cloth over his burnt skin.

When Jared looked down, he saw barely any blood; the hot chisel had effectively cauterized the wounds and the cleaning was fast but painful. His captor and tormentor picked up a small jar filled with something thick and white that he applied over the burnt area; each stroke of his sure fingers was pure torture, and not even the coolness of the soothing salve could remove the pain. By the time Jensen put it away again, Jared was trembling, exhausted both in body and in mind.

"If you don't take care of this, there will be hell to pay," Jensen said evenly. "This is _my_ mark on you, and I expect you to take care of it the same way you would anything else that is mine. Understood?"

Jared couldn't answer, hard sobs wracking his body, and despite the restraints, he trembled violently. The blow came hard and fast, the palm of Jensen's hand connecting with his cheek, and the sudden pain made the sobs catch in Jared's throat as his eyes flew open.

"Understood?" Jensen asked again, his voice deadly sharp.

"Yes, Master," Jared said quickly. 

The other man nodded and moved to unfasten the restraints, but even when they were all opened, Jared couldn't find the strength to move. Instead he lay panting, unwilling to look down at the brand on his chest. 

"I'll have dinner in thirty minutes," Jensen said calmly. "I expect you dressed and in your spot by then."

His spot. Jared knew what that meant: kneeling beside Jensen's chair while the man ate. He couldn't even imagine sitting like that at the moment, much less dressed in the white linen clothes that the servants always presented him with.

"You can skip the tunic," Jensen added when he reached the door. "I want to see my mark on you."

~*~

Jared stood on shaky legs outside the dining room, white pants hanging low on his hips just like he knew Jensen liked; his body was tired, impossibly tired, and he couldn't ignore the throbbing in his chest. With all the strength he could muster, he raised his hand and rapped his knuckles against the hard, dark door.

"Come in," Jensen's voice answered.

Stepping into the room and carefully closing the door behind him, Jared found his gaze drawn to the man waiting in a big, comfortable chair. Jensen was dressed in his usual black clothes, pants hugging his slightly parted thighs, Jared's soft rug in between his legs instead of to the side. Jared froze mid-step for half a second before he bowed his head and finished walking across the stone floor, barely holding back a wince and pained grunt when his kneel tugged at the burnt skin on his chest. 

"Face this way." 

Jared shifted around until he was facing the other man, his lowered head placing his face uncomfortably close to Jensen's crotch; in fact, Jared was pretty sure that was the plan, and he refused to let his discomfort show. The man calling himself Jared's Master didn't speak, but one of his strong hands tilted Jared's chin up until he was forced to meet the hard green gaze. Jensen pushed his chin up even further until Jared's neck was craning and his back slightly arched to expose the mark on his chest.

"Do you like your mark?" Jensen asked with a hard smirk on his lips.

"Yes, Master," Jared lied. The hard flash in Jensen’s eyes told Jared that he knew the words to be a lie.

"I have more marks to put on you, some other day." Jensen flicked a nail against Jared's nipple.

A sharp sting shot through his body at the hard touch, the skin around his nipple sore after the branding, and Jared swallowed down the bile rising in his throat. 

"I’ll enjoy them all, Master," Jared forced out, hoping to end the man's touches.

"No," Jensen said, drawing his blunt nails over the nipple. "You really, really won’t."

~*~

Jared woke to the sensation of a hand smoothing salve over his burn, a gesture that might have been soothing if it had been done by anyone other than the green-eyed man kneeling on the bed beside him. There was no doubt that each brush of fingers was designed to cause discomfort, all just the wrong side of painful.

"Please," Jared groaned through a fog of sleep.

He didn't expect the words to change the touches, but the hand drew back and Jared breathed a sigh of relief in the second before it returned to close firmly around his, dragging it down to the other man's crotch where a hard length was waiting for him.

"Do your job," Jensen ordered, withdrawing his hand from Jared's. 

Jared kept his eyes closed but wrapped his long fingers around the cock, knowing that refusal wasn't an option; it had never been an option, not since he had first entered Nordaschir's grim halls. 

"That's right," Jensen groaned. "You've learned well. Soon it'll be time for me to teach you new things."

A shiver ran down Jared's spine, but he kept on working the cock in his hand, the man's pre-come slicking the way when his fingers traced upwards to slide through the wetness at the tip.

"You think I can't teach you more?" Jensen taunted daringly. 

Jared kept working his hand harder; he tried as hard as he could to do something that would be enough to make Jensen's words fade into moans, but the other man was still the one in control.

"I think you can," Jared said quietly; he had no doubts that Jensen still had a lot of torments to show him.

"Mmm," Jensen hummed, rocking his hips forward into Jared's grip. "You can take my fingers and my cock without complaining, can't you? I wonder what more you can take, how much I can give you before you scream. Think I can fit my hand into you?"

Jared's eyes flew wide and he stared up to find Jensen staring at him, clearly expecting the fear that Jared knew must have been clear in his gaze. He wanted to scream in protest, but Jensen's gaze kept him silent, kept him working the man's cock as words washed over him in waves.

"I think I can, you see; I can see you stretch wide around me, _feel_ you, how warm and tight you would be around my hand." Jensen’s voice didn’t betray any hints that Jared's hand on him was affecting him in any way. "And the sounds you would make; I want to hear you scream when I stretch you wide."

Jared shook his head, the only objection he dared to make, but even that seemed to be too much; Jensen's eyes darkened and anger flashed in them before he moved his hand down and spread his palm over the burnt skin over Jared's heart. Jensen's hand covered the entire work, a possessive touch that made pain flare white hot through Jared’s body—Jared opened his mouth to scream, just the way Jensen clearly wanted him to, and he couldn't stop his hand from tightening around Jensen in a way that would have caused a lesser man to howl in pain; it seemed that the tight ache together with Jared's scream was enough to push the green-eyed man over the edge.

Jensen came with a groan, spilling sticky and warm over Jared's hand and up towards his chest; droplets of white landed on Jensen's hand where it was spread over Jared's heart. The hand was pulled away and, for a second, Jared felt relief, but then Jensen was working his own come into the scarring skin on Jared's chest, pressing his fingers against it until the pain was unbearable and Jared was close to passing out. Only then did Jensen stop, reaching down to where Jared's cock lay flaccid against his leg. Pain was still dulling his mind, but Jensen was skilled, and against his own will, Jared felt himself go hard in Jensen’s come-soaked grip.

"You want to come?" Jensen asked.

With a sob, Jared squeezed his eyes shut; he knew he wasn't allowed to say no, but he couldn't quite push the awaited 'yes' past his lips. 

"No?" Jensen asked. "Well then, you'll have it your own way."

Before Jared could feel any relief at Jensen's hand withdrawing, his fingers were back, fastening something around the base of Jared’s cock.

"I wonder how long it’ll be before you beg," Jensen pondered as he pushed off the bed, not before fastening Jared to the ever-present shackles.

The pain in Jared’s chest was almost forgotten compared to the need building higher and higher in his cock and balls, but the restraints kept him in place; it took Jared awhile to realize what it was that Jensen had done to him, that the thin strip of black leather around him was keeping his cock from going soft.

"See? There are so _many_ reasons for you to scream for me," Jensen said. "I intend to explore every single one."

With those words, Jensen turned to leave Jared, abandoned and torn between the torments of his too-hard cock and the come-covered mark on his chest.

~*~


	10. Chapter 10

_****_

~Jensen~

Jensen looked down at the man stretched out on his bed; his eyes were squeezed shut and low moans spilled from his lips, broken sounds between pain and pleasure that caused Jensen's cock to thicken. His prisoner's cock was an angry red where the leather strap had kept him hard for the past hour; Jensen moved across the stone floor on silent feet until he reached the man and ran one finger up the hard length.

The bound man screamed, his hips arching up off the bed, and Jensen wasn't sure whether he was trying to get away or find release. He reached down and unfastened the leather strap, causing the tall man to groan and his moans turned to pleas.

"Need, please please please," he whimpered. "Master, I need it so much. Please, let me come."

Jensen looked down into the man's slanted eyes, the begging as clear there as in his voice, a desperation that Jensen had never seen before; he closed one hand around the man's cock, making sure to keep his orgasm back.

"Need it so much, don't you?" Jensen asked as he pushed his thumb against the thick vein on the underside of his prisoner's cock. "But do you deserve it?"

"Yes!" the man shouted. "Please, I'll do anything. Anything you want me to do, please, I'll do it, just…let me come. God, don't do this, please, stop."

Jensen's hand tightened around the man's hardness, forcing a pained groan out of his mouth.

"Did you just tell me to stop?" Jensen asked coldly.

The prisoner's eyes went wide with fear and panic, but he stilled, stopped fighting against his restraints, and lay still, waiting for whatever Jensen might have in store for him.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," the man whimpered, his body tightened under Jensen's fingers.

"You will be," Jensen promised. He tied the thin strip back around his prisoner's still-hard cock and heavy balls. "You'll be grateful whenever I decide to give you release."

The man shook with hard sobs, tears leaking from his clenched eyes to run down his cheeks, and Jensen smiled at his humiliated expression; the tears that made his eyelashes stick together and the red mark on his chest where Jensen's come was dry on his skin. The soft sound of knuckles against wood made Jensen turn towards the door just in time to see it open on Misha, his gaze locked on the ground.

"Master," the man said. "Your horse is prepared for your ride. It's waiting in front of the gates, and I've told the kitchen staff that you and your prisoner will not be having dinner in the usual room."

"Just as I told you." Jensen nodded and stood up. "It's nice to know you can still follow orders. I need to get dressed; give him some water. And Misha...don't leave the strap on for too long at the time, but don't let him come. Neither of you will like the punishment if that happens."

The last words were accompanied by a small nod towards the man on the bed before Jensen left the room without a second glance.

~*~

Jensen could feel eyes on him as he rode through the small town, but whenever he looked around, the only thing he saw was every face turning down and away from him, no one daring to meet the gaze of the master of Nordaschir. A lazy smile curled Jensen's lips when he pulled his white stallion to a stop in front of a small leatherworking shop; the few people milling around the entrance quickly moved away and the street emptied while Jensen tied his horse to the post there.

A small bell announced his arrival and the man behind the counter looked up, his pale blue eyes going wide when he saw Jensen at the door; the color faded from his face and he trembled, fueling the arousal that had been boiling in Jensen’s blood since he had left his prisoner tied up and crying on his bed.

"Master Ackles," the man choked out.

"Benjamin," Jensen answered tonelessly. "My order had better be ready."

"Of course, sir," the man answered in a rush. "I'll just... One moment, sir."

The man disappeared into a small room in the back of the store and Jensen crossed the floor, walking up to the counter, moving his strong fingers over the belts and clothes lining it; beautiful items that held no interest for him. 

"Here it is, Master Ackles," Benjamin said when he came back out with a leather bag. "I've done everything you asked for."

Jensen took the bag and opened it, immediately leveling Benjamin with a hard gaze.

"I never _ask_ for things, and you would do well to remember that."

Benjamin nodded and swallowed hard when Jensen reached into the bag to pick out the first of the items stored inside, curling his fingers around the whip and letting its tails slide between his fingers. He snapped it hard against the counter, making Benjamin flinch.

"It’ll do," Jensen said, making his way through the rest of the bag until he reached the bottom and his fingers closed around a smooth leather collar.

The collar was glossy black, a thick band with a heavy clasp, and Jensen hardened at the thought of how his prisoner would look with it around his long neck.

"Yes," Jensen said, licking his lips and smirking at Benjamin when the man shuddered. "This will do well. And the payment?"

Benjamin swallowed and shook his head to Jensen’s raised eyebrow.

"Master Ackles, I would never... Please, consider it a gift from me."

Jensen's growing smile was a slow one, and the already pale man turned white as a sheet.

"Good choice, Benjamin. And the last item I asked about?"

The other man's hands shook as he slid a small wooden box towards Jensen.

~*~

The horse’s movement was fluid as Jensen rode through the forest, the trees around him blurred with speed. He gripped the reigns tightly, leaning forward as the stallion sped up even more, its hooves thundering against the ground. The forest gave way to the hard-packed dirt road that led to Nordaschir, and he allowed his horse to slow to a trot once the dark stone building rose into sight. 

The hours spent away from the castle had done nothing to sooth the edge of anticipation thrumming in his veins, beating stronger and stronger as he closed in on the gates. He dismounted in front of the main gate, unsurprised to find two servants waiting for him. Handing the reigns to Robin, he turned to Misha, whose gaze finally met Jensen’s head on.

"I take it things have gone well?" Jensen asked. He lifted the heavy bag down from his horse's back before he walked inside. "The prisoner?"

"Just as you said, Master," Misha said softly. "He hasn't come; I put the leather back in about an hour ago. He should be...ready for you."

The tension under Jensen’s skin coiled even tighter when he thought of the man waiting for him, spread out and hard; a sharp smile tugged at his lips and with a small wave, he dismissed Misha, continuing up the stairs by himself. Once outside the door, Jensen's hand drifted down to the bag he was carrying; lifting up the collar that he was itching to fasten around the prisoner's neck, he pushed the heavy door open.

The man seemed to hardly notice Jensen's entrance; he was still tied down, his cock flushed where the leather strap held it taught, pre-come glistening in a wet spot on the prisoner's belly. Jensen moved forward, watching the man fighting against the restraints. He let the bag drop to the floor, the heavy thud drawing the prisoner's gaze to Jensen as his low groan filled the room.

"It hurts, doesn't it?" Jensen asked. He went on talking without giving the man a chance to answer. "You need to come so badly, I bet it's all you can think about; how much you want me to let you have your release. It won’t happen, though."

The tall man squeezed his eyes shut, his submissive tears making Jensen's cock harden.

"Open your eyes," he ordered. He waited for the other man's eyes to slowly open again, glazed with a mix of arousal and anguish. "I want you to see what took me away for so many hours. I had to fetch myself something new and interesting."

Jensen held the collar up for the man to see; the man's eyes widened, his head barely shaking before he regained some control of himself, fear still evident in his eyes. 

"I will put this around your neck," Jensen said softly. "But not until you beg me. How long do you think that will take?"

The man whimpered when Jensen laid the collar down on his chest, right next to his new brand, but it turned into a low, guttural sob when Jensen stroked his hand down where the prisoner was hard and sensitive, his cock twitching; Jensen slid one long finger over it before he wrapped his hand around it. His prisoner screamed at the touch, straining his hips to get away from Jensen; tied to the bed, he had nowhere to go, no way to get away from the hand working him past the edge of pain until Jensen knew each touch of his fingers must be unbearable.

"Once I strap that collar on, it won’t come off again," Jensen said as he stroked the man's heavy balls, feeling the painful shivers running through him. "It will be a part of you, just as the brand is, and everyone will know who you belong to. Don't you want that?"

The last words were finished off with a teasing leer as Jensen dropped the softness from his voice, taking pleasure in the sobs and cries escaping the taller man's lips.

"You’ll beg for it," Jensen said with a dark promise in his voice. "How much do you want it to hurt before you do?"

Jensen stroked the warm, tight muscle below the man's balls, making him tremble, his hole clenching in a vain attempt to keep Jensen's probing finger away; Jensen reached to dip his finger into the ever-present oil on the bedside table before he returned his hand between the man's legs and pushing two fingers inside, not wasting any time in locating the sensitive bundle of nerves.

"Please, please, please."

The words were nothing more than a mumbled groan, but they had Jensen hardening until his pants were strained tight over his crotch as the other man's inner walls fluttered around his fingers. 

"Does this mean you want my collar around your neck?"

A high-pitched whine filled the room before his prisoner bit down on his lower lip in an attempt to keep it back, but when Jensen rubbed around the man's prostate, his mouth fell open on a loud moan and his eyelids fluttered at the onslaught of sensation.

"Yes..."

Jensen had known that the word would fall from the man's lips sooner or later, but he wanted more; he wanted his prisoner to beg for it.

"How much do you want it?" Jensen asked, his thumb drifting up to push at the leather strap keeping the brown-haired man hard. 

"Please," the bound man gasped, his voice rising an octave. "I'll... Anything... Just please..."

"Mmm," Jensen hummed, his blunt nails dragging over the soft skin of his prisoner's balls. "But it's not good enough. Trust me...I can make this so much worse for you if don't beg me for it."

The man shook his head violently, his lips forming a silent 'please,' but Jensen didn't give him so much as a moment before he wrapped his free hand around the man's hard cock.

"Beg!"

Jensen's voice was like whiplash, a promise of torture behind his words that the man on the bed clearly heard: He shivered before he started speaking, his words coming faster and faster.

"Please... I want it, please. I want the collar, please, Master. Give me the collar, put it on me. I need you to put the collar on me."

"And you will enjoy it?" Jensen asked as he reached to pick the collar up from where it had been resting on the man's chest. "Showing everyone how you belong to me, because you do, don't you?"

"Yes, please. Love it... I want it. I belong to you, Master."

The words came out in a sob and it was clear how much each one cost the bound man, breaking down walls that Jensen had been working at weakening; the victory made fire crackle under his skin. He pulled his fingers out of the other man, reaching up and pushing them between his soft lips instead, silencing the pleading. He pushed in and out of the prisoner's mouth, the other man licking in between his fingers.

"That's a good boy," Jensen said before he pulled the fingers out with wet pop. "Now then..."

He untied the restraints, but the man barely seemed aware; he was still lying flat, shaking, his chest heaving up and down with ragged breaths, and Jensen's gaze was drawn to where his mark was forever burnt into the soft skin. Jensen pulled away and stepped off the bed, taking the collar with him.

"Kneel."

Hazel eyes opened to look at him, glazed with the unrelenting pleasure and pain that the man had been experiencing for hours; Jensen know it was an expression he would want to see many more times. With another whimper, the man moved off the bed, his body clearly stiff and aching from the hours spent tied up; he hissed in pain when he sank to his knees in front of Jensen, his cock bobbing hard and red between his legs.

"Do you want this?" Jensen asked, holding up the collar.

"Yes, Master," the prisoner said with a nod. 

Jensen reached down to put the collar around the man's neck, resting it on his smooth skin without fastening the clasp; the contrast of pale skin and black leather was perfect. The sight of the man on his knees, achingly hard, made Jensen groan, and he moved his hands down to tug his pants open; his prisoner's gaze snapped down when he pulled his hard cock out, the head glistening with pre-come.

"Prove to me how much you want it," Jensen ordered. "Prove that you _deserve_ my collar around your neck."

The kneeling man whimpered, but then he was shuffling forward until his lips brushed against Jensen's cock, his wet tongue laving over the crown, gathering the droplets of pre-come. Warm heat closed around Jensen's cock and the man slowly sucked him, his lips locked just where the head met the shaft. 

"Do it for real," Jensen ordered, lowering one hand to put it on the kneeling man's head. "Show me how you need this, how you like it and maybe, just maybe, I'll let you come."

That time, Jensen felt his prisoner sob around his cock, and he smiled as more and more of his hard length disappeared into the prisoner's mouth until he had hit the tender back of the man's throat. 

"That's better," Jensen said, his hand drifting down to where the collar was resting lightly around the man's neck. "Once I close this, it never comes off again."

The prisoner made a sound around his cock that Jensen couldn’t identify as a moan or a protest—not that it mattered, vibrations trembling up through Jensen's cock and making him moan before he gripped the man's hair and pulled, fucking himself into the wet heat of his prisoner's mouth. He thrust hard between the man's lips until pleasure tingled along his spine, his orgasm building slow and thick inside him until the man on his knees sobbed again; the exquisite sound of pain, want, and humiliation was enough to send Jensen over the edge. He came right down the prisoner's throat, holding him still until the man began fighting for air. Jensen pulled free and watched come drip down the man's chin, his hazel eyes wet with unshed tears and his lips swollen from the abuse.

"That's good," Jensen said. He gathered the leaking come on his fingers, pushing it back into the prisoner's mouth. "Make sure you get it all, and then I’ll lock this tight around your neck."

"Please," the prisoner mumbled around his fingers.

Jensen grabbed the collar and made sure to put it in its place before he reached around and snapped it shut.

"Who do you belong to?" Jensen asked.

The man met Jensen's gaze, tears falling down his cheeks, but the words he spoke were just the ones Jensen wanted to hear.

"You. I'm yours."

~*~


	11. Chapter 11

_**~Jared~** _

The collar sat heavily around Jared's neck, a constant pressure that kept Jensen in his mind even when his captor stayed away for hours; Jared hated how even the illusion of freedom had been taken away from him. He knew better than trying to remove it, though—Jensen had caught him struggling with clasp a few days after he had put it on, and the remembrance of the excruciating pain he had been put through still made Jared quake. Moments like this, when Jared was on all fours as his master thrust into him hard enough enough to bruise, had become something to be longed for.

"Think I can make you come from this?" Jensen asked, a smirk evident in his tone.

Jared wanted to scream no, to get away from the possessive grip around his hips, but he knew it was futile, and he was ashamed to say that he had even begun to crave the touch a little bit; he could barely remember anyone other than Jensen ever touching him. He was about to open his mouth, to dare to make some kind of protest, some kind of plea, when Jensen changed his angle and his next slide into Jared's body made his cock hit that terrible bundle of nerves; whatever Jared had planned to say was drowned out by an involuntary moan.

"Yeah," Jensen said. "I think I can; your body is _mine_ , it does what I _tell_ it to."

Jensen’s big, strong hand moved up from Jared’s hips to the still-sensitive scars on his back, his fingers forcing under the collar, pulling backwards to arch Jared’s back and tying up the airflow to his lungs.

"You breathe 'cause I let you," Jensen said, pulling him further back until his air supply was fully cut off.

Jared clenched at the sheets, his nails digging in as he fought for oxygen; the only thing he managed was to make the collar cut into his throat even more.

"You live 'cause I let you," Jensen growled, his hips snapping forward in a punishing rhythm.

The need to breathe made Jared’s panic build, but it was tangled with intense pleasure as Jensen kept hitting his prostate, the lack of oxygen somehow intensifying every thrust until Jared's skin felt too tight, pleasure crackling under his skin as his vision started to flicker; Jared was just on the verge of an orgasm he didn't want to have, Jensen’s grip still pinning him down.

"You come 'cause I _make_ you," the man said as he slid in again.

Jared wanted to scream, but the lack of oxygen wouldn't let him; he wildly began to hope that he would pass out before his orgasm was fully realized, but in just that moment, Jensen released his grip on the collar. Air rushed into Jared’s lungs and he fell forward, everything whiting out as blinding pleasure coursed through his body and he came harder than he ever had before. Jared clamped down around Jensen's cock inside him, unable to stop himself from arching back, pushing the hard length deeper as he sobbed in relief; Jensen put both hands on his hips, forcing him to stay still while he fucked him, deep and hard, until Jared felt Jensen shiver and empty himself inside him, warm come slicking the way and dragging his own orgasm out impossibly longer. He slumped forward bonelessly, his softening cock lying in the cooling pool of his own come, his body weighed down by Jensen's above him until the other man pulled free; Jared hissed as Jensen walked over to the cabinet where a water bin and washcloths waited for him.

"You might as well get up," the man said without looking back. "I need you dressed and ready by sunset."

Jared heard the words, but they didn't seem to penetrate his foggy mind; all he could think of was the burning humiliation, the pleasure that still seemed to weigh down his body as tears spilled down his cheeks. He wasn't aware of the other man moving before pain radiated from his cheek where Jensen backhanded him.

"You never," Jensen said icily, "ignore me when I'm speaking to you. You _will_ get yourself together and you _will_ be in the dining room when I expect. Are we clear?"

Jared’s face throbbed, but to his utter humiliation, the pain did nothing to stem the pleasure still simmering under his skin.

"Yes, Master," he murmured, shivering under his hard eyes.

~*~

Jared knelt at his usual spot beside Jensen's chair, a common thing after endless months that barely hurt his legs and back anymore. What wasn't common, though, was the man sitting beside Jensen at the table; in all the months he had spent at Nordaschir, Jared had never seen anyone but Jensen and the servants, his little world limited to just those few people. Jared wondered what the people from his village would say if they know that the feared master of Nordaschir was doing something _social_. Something bitter and cold settled in Jared’s belly, but he didn't dare look up, instead shifting slightly closer to Jensen and keeping his eyes glued to his own hands clasped around his knees.

"I think you should sell him to me," the stranger said.

Willpower and knowledge of what pain could be dealt kept Jared still, but for a fleeting second, he dared to hope that there was a way out for him, maybe.

"We've been over this before, Epstein," Jensen said, his words a barely-concealed threat. "I’m not selling Misha to you; not now, not ever."

Jared's shoulders slumped ever so slightly; he straightened at once, but Jensen's blunt nails dug into his skin at once. He had noticed.

"But you don't even use him anymore," Epstein said. "I can see he's been replaced. Degraded."

"Misha is mine,” Jensen answered easily. “He's trained for _me_."

"I can retrain him," the man offered at once. "I know you've had him since he was a child; he's been trained well, and he’ll learn again. I need someone like that."

"Then find your own," Jensen said, his grip tightening briefly as he shrugged. "I train mine for life. They’re branded with my mark, for _life_."

As he spoke, he trailed his fingers down Jared's chest, spreading them wide over the mark there, the slightly raised skin; Jared shivered.

"But Ackles..." Epstein started.

" _Listen_ to _me_ ," Jensen snarled. "My servant are _mine_. My servants are _all mine_ ; you might think you can handle them, but there is _no_ way. Do you know what makes them so good?"

Jared dared to look up from under his too-long hair at the stranger's face, at the way his gaze fell under the weight of Jensen's apparent anger.

"No," the man mumbled.

"Me," Jensen said.

The two man leaned back in their big chairs, sliding back into easier conversation, but Jared wasn't aware of what they were saying. All he could perceive was the hand still resting on his shoulder, the touch no more possessive than Jensen laying his hand on a table; it was just...a touch. Jared knew what his place was, what was expected of him, but seeing the strange man look away from Jensen made something click to place inside of him: No one was coming to save him. He had known it all along; everyone outside of the castle was terrified of Jensen. The villagers feared the man they didn't even know; his own servants feared him; even this man who Jared would have thought to be Jensen's equal feared him.

When the stranger left, Jared was barely aware of turning his face against Jared, of letting himself be pushed into position before the other man untied his pants and took out his already-hard cock. Jared leaned forward, licking around the head to gather up the pre-come.

There was nothing else for him to do.

~*~

Misha glared daggers at Jared from his stiff position by the door. Jared couldn't really remember when Misha had gone back to being hostile towards him, but the man was smart enough to only show his undiluted hatred when it was just the two of them; in front of their master or the other servants, Misha was nothing but perfectly polite, even caring.

"Why do you hate me?" Jared asked, taking a step forward as he tied the drawstring of his white pants.

"I don't care enough about you to hate you, slave," Misha said bitterly. "Are you ready to go to dinner? I would’ve thought that you’d have learned your place enough by now to be prepared on time."

Jared lowered his head to avoid the man’s cold blue eyes, but he could still feel them as he was led out into the corridor and toward the stairs.

"I never asked for this," Jared said quietly.

The other man finally reacting, spinning around furiously.

"Oh but you did," he spat. "You asked to be Master's. You _pleaded_ for him to keep you here, and I know you begged for that collar around your neck. I have no idea what Master sees in you, but you’re the one with the collar, you’re the one with his brand across your heart. I’ve served him since I was _ten years old_ and I never got _half_ of what you have, and since you got here, I haven’t gotten _anything_."

The two men stared each other down in silence for a few long minutes before Jared remembered that Jensen was waiting for him; he stalked forward, but Misha stood his ground and Jared had to shove him to get past, slamming him into the wall. Jared took a few steps further before turning around to look at him.

"I don't _want_ this!" he spat. "I don't want to be branded like cattle, I don't want this damn collar around my neck! It's..."

"Oh, do go on," came a steely voice from behind him. "Tell me what my collar around your neck is. And please, explain why you’re pushing my servants around."

Jared’s whole body tensed up; he had forgotten that they were already outside of the dining room. For a moment, he saw something akin to triumph flicker in Misha's eyes before the man pushed off the wall, his hands bloodied where he had caught himself against it.

"Master," Misha said, lowering his gaze and keeping his wounds in view.

"Misha, get out of here. I don't want to see you for the rest of the week," Jensen said calmly.

The servant's eyes widened and he darted a quick glare Jared's way before he moved away, leaving Jared alone, weighed down by Jensen’s hard gaze; before he could say anything, his master spoke again.

"Follow me."

The steel was gone from Jensen's voice, but Jared knew better than to think that was a good thing; he followed Jensen with his head lowered, walking through corridors he'd never been in before.

"Get inside, and get undressed," Jensen said when they reached a large door.

Jared pushed the door open, taking a step inside and immediately freezing. He had known for months that Jensen kept a certain collection of playthings in his bedroom; what little of it Jared had seen had made his blood run cold, but it was nothing compared to the spread before him now. His gaze landed on a heavy wooden cross hanging on the far wall, strips of leather fastened to it, before skittering over something that looked like a padded bench with numerous leather cuffs and chains attached. His head was spinning when the door slammed shut behind him; his eyes landed on part of the wall that seemed to be dedicated to whips and paddles and other instruments that Jared had never dreamt about in his most vivid nightmares. A strong hand gripped his hair tight and tilted his head backwards, causing Jared to cry out.

"I said, get undressed. Now."

Jared was shoved forward, crashing into the cross and seeing stars, the wood slicing into his cheek before he managed to get his balance back. With trembling hands, he managed to get out of his clothes, but he didn't have time to gather them up before he was pushed up against the cross again.

His hands were fastened into the two cuffs at the top of the cross before a thick leather belt was tied around his waist, keeping his body flush against the wood; Jensen didn't speak as he knelt behind Jared and fastened his ankles to the cross as well.

"I don't like my property acting up," Jensen finally said. "You are my property, but so is Misha, and I can’t allow you to hurt each other. I think you need to learn that lesson."

"Master, I..."

Jared didn't get beyond that before something hit his back, making him scream in pain like he had never felt before, exploding across his whole back at once. Jared dimly realized that whatever it was Jensen had used, it had several tails, because the searing wasn’t focused on any one point. He heard the whip move through the air again, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't prepare his his body for the burn; despite his attempts to bite the scream back, it burst out of him.

"When you hurt my property, I will hurt you ten times as much," Jensen said, the hard edge back in his voice.

The whip landed again and Jared felt his skin split open, rivulets of blood running down his bare back and over curve of his ass before it landed again, lower this time, leaving welts over his ass and thighs. Another _whoosh_ of air was followed by more agony, radiating down from his shoulders, the cross the only thing keeping him up as bile rose in his throat and his vision started to white out.

"You make my property bleed, and I’ll make you pay for it in your own blood."

The whip landed again and Jared's throat was raw with helpless screams.

Jared waited for the next burst of pain, but instead came something that made his belly churn violently: Jensen's breath against his bleeding back, and then the swipe of a broad tongue. The sting of the tongue dragging over his wounds was almost eclipsed by his humiliation, but despite everything, Jared knew better than to protest. He no longer doubted that no matter what Jensen did to him, there was always something else, something even worse.

"Are you going to hurt my property again?" Jensen asked, dragging his tongue over Jared's shoulder blade.

Jared opened his mouth to answer, but the only sound that came out was another sob; he bit his lip to keep from screaming again when Jensen dragged a nail over one of the welts. A hand landed hard on the marks covering his ass before Jensen took a step back, but Jared didn't even have time to pull in a breath of air before the whip landed again.

"You should always answer me," Jensen said coldly. "I guess we’ll keep this up until I bleed all your defiance out."

The pain was unremitting, blow after blow landing without any break for Jared to gather himself together. Darkness swelled up, tugging at the edges of his consciousness, and he gratefully let it drag him under.

~*~


	12. Chapter 12

_****_

**~Jensen~**

Jensen looked down on the sleeping form stretched out on the bed before him, taking in the intricate pattern of scars where there used to be miles of smooth skin. Stepping closer, he held the kerosene lamp up and a smile curved his lips; the marks, his marks, would remain on the man's back forever. Putting the lamp down on the bedside table, Jensen knelt on the bed, causing the man to shift slightly in his sleep.

Reaching out, Jensen dragged one finger down a long scar that stretched all the way from the prisoner's shoulder to the curve of his ass, the raised red mark strangely smooth under his fingertip. Even in deep sleep, the man let out a low whine, trying to get away from Jensen's touch. The movement made Jensen's smile harden and he scraped his short nail over the skin. 

"Please..."

The word was just a murmur, and the man on the bed was clearly still asleep, but Jensen's blood started to boil and he pressed down harder, making the other man stir awake.

"What's... Why... No..."

The man turned, his eyes landing on Jensen kneeling beside him and going wide with fear, falling down to the sheets instead.

"Did you say no?" Jensen asked coldly. 

"Master," the man whispered to the sheets. "I thought... It was a dream... I didn't, I would never. I'm sorry."

"Sorry just isn't good enough," Jensen said, getting up. "On your back."

He was slightly surprised by the immediate response; despite the prisoner’s grogginess, he turned around and spread out on his back, his eyes locked on Jensen, a tinge of fear obvious in his stiff posture. Turning his back to the bed, Jensen walked over to the heavy cabinet that held his leather and whips. 

"You're healed now," Jensen said as he flung the cabinet doors open. "That means I can entertain myself again."

The punishment he had inflicted on his prisoner had been a high point of his slow breaking process, but as much as he enjoyed making the tall man bleed, making him scream, it had taken too long for him to heal enough for Jensen to push his limits again. Now, though, he was going to enjoy every second of this. He felt the other man watching him reach into the cabinet to withdraw a slender wooden box; turning back, he put it on the table beside the lamp. Without a word, he grabbed one of the prisoner's hands and tied it to the bedpost, satisfaction spreading through him when the man didn't even try to pull away.

"I don't even have to tie you down, do I?" Jensen said with a smirk, fastening the other hand. "You're beyond that. I tell you to stay and you do it. I tell you to spread your legs and you do it."

Jensen walked to the foot of the bed and tied the man's ankles as well, leaving him spread eagle and unable to move at all. Walking to the cabinet again, Jensen retrieved a small bottle of rich oil, picking up the box on his way back and putting them down on the bed as he knelt in the vee of his prisoner's legs.

"You're not gonna like this," Jensen said, unplugging the oil. "Or maybe you will."

Tension was thick in the air and the prisoner's gaze was heavy on him as he opened the box and lifted the thin silver rod from its red velvet pillow; one end was a flat handle and the other curved slightly into a small ball. The man’s eyes widened again as the lamplight light caught on the polished silver.

"What _is_ that?" the prisoner murmured with fear in his eyes.

Jensen didn't answer, instead taking the remaining item from the box: a syringe that made the prisoner flinch. Jensen’s lips thinned in a dangerous line, but instead of saying anything, he lifted the hefty syringe and opened the top to pour the oil inside.

"You'll probably want to stay still," Jensen said as he cupped the prisoner's soft cock in his hand.

The other man tensed up at the touch but Jensen ignored it and slowly inserted the needle into his slit, letting it slide inside before depressing it and injecting the oil inside. 

"Burns," the man hissed, squeezing his eyes shut. "Weird..."

Jensen pushed the last of the oil inside and withdrew the syringe, putting it down on the bed and lifting the silver rod, holding the flat end between his fingers as he rolled the ball over the prisoner's cock, sliding through the oil leaking from the slit.

"Just try and relax," Jensen said, even though he knew the man would be unable to.

Pulling back a bit, Jensen dipped the silver rod into the bottle of oil until the length was glistening and then rested it again on the man's cock, at the slit; he shifted the man's cock slightly to align it with the rod and then pushed the ball against the opening, sliding it inside.

"God, please," the bound man groaned, biting down on his lower lip.

"This is called a sound," Jensen said didactically, refusing to let the man shy away from what was happening. "I'm going to put this inside of you. And I'm pretty sure it’s going to hurt."

With that, he changed the angle slightly, the sound sliding down into the man's cock, pulled down by its own weight. The man's eyes flew wide open at the penetration, but Jensen's eyes were locked on the vanishing rod.

"You're taking it so well," Jensen said, licking his lips slowly. "Your body was made for taking everything I give it."

The man sobbed, his body trembling against the restraints, and Jensen held the sound still for a few moments to let the man's body adjust to the unfamiliar stretch. It was unlike anything he had done to him before and there was no way to force it; he wasn't prepared to put the slave out of action again, not when it was so fun to play with him.

"How does it feel?" Jensen asked, shifting the man's cock in his grasp and letting the sound slide even deeper.

There was no answer, only wide, staring eyes as the sound slid deeper and then stopped and the man made a pained gasp. Jensen's own breathing was deep and even, but the prisoner's turned ragged, like he was fighting for it. Jensen tapped at the handle with one nail; it rang loud for just a second before the man made a high, keening sound and his face showcased a gorgeous mix of humiliation, fear, and pain. Holding the man's cock in one hand, the sound braced in two of his fingers, Jensen dipped two fingers of his free hand into the small bottle, coating them in oil.

The man gasped as he realized what Jensen was about to do, but it seemed that he had learnt his lesson; even though he tensed up, he didn't even try to shift away, biting down on his lower lip before his eyes slid shut. Jensen pushed the man's legs as far apart as he could against the restraints and dropped his fingers down, rubbing them over the tightly furled muscle of the man’s hole and smiling to himself when it clenched even tighter at the touch.

"Maybe this will take your mind off the sound," Jensen said, pushing two fingers inside.

The man didn't scream, but he turned his head and bit into a pillow, trying to muffle his pained whimpers; the sound was still enough to make Jensen's hard cock twitch inside his tight black pants. Part of him wanted to replace his fingers with his cock, fuck the man deep and hard with the sound still buried inside, but it wasn't the right time for that. He wanted to make the man scream first.

He held his fingers still until the tight muscle relaxed around him, the tight inner walls flexing like they were trying to expel the intruding digits; Jensen pushed them deeper inside, searching for the sensitive spot. He knew the second he found it; the man kept gasping for air even a low moan escaped him.

"You're starting to learn your lesson," Jensen said, pushing against the spot. "You feel whatever I want you to feel, be it pleasure...or pain."

He pressed one finger to the handle again, changing the moan to a pained choking sound. Alternating between forcing pleasure on the man and tapping the sound, he delighted in the raspy sobs he was eliciting.

"I wonder if I can..." Jensen looked down at the soft cock in his grasp. "Want to come for me, slave? How do you think it would feel to have this sound in you when my touch turns you on?"

"I can't," the prisoner gritted out through clenched teeth. "It hurts..."

"Oh, but you can," Jensen said with a smile. He pulled his fingers out of the man's body. "And I will show you how."

He wrapped his oil-slick fingers around the man's cock, feeling the weight of the the sound inside, and took a firmer grip of the small handle, pulling it back slightly before letting it slide down again, this time dropping it all the way down until only the handle was left outside the man's body. Something changed in the tall man's breathing, the pained whimpers turned back into small moans.

"What's...what's happening?" the man asked, his body trembling despite his attempts to stay still.

Jensen didn't answer, tapping his nail against the handle again; instead of causing the man pain, it pulled a guttural groan from him and his hips jerked up slightly. Jensen was a bit disappointed that the man didn't seem to be getting hard, but he wasn't all that surprised, either, not with the new feeling of the sound filling him. With the sound in place, Jensen let go of the handle and held up the man's cock while his other hand returned to his oil-slick hole, two fingers sliding easily inside.

"Too much, too much," the bound man whimpered, his head thrashing back and forth. His cock had hardened some, but Jensen doubted that he would get a full erection; that didn't mean that Jensen couldn't have fun, of course. He carefully leaned down, his prisoner’s pink lips parting in a surprised 'o' when Jensen leaned in to close his teeth on the flat handle of the sound, wrapping his lips around smooth silver but being careful to keep it still. When he didn't move, the man relaxed ever so slightly, and Jensen adjusted his grip on the man's cock before he hummed around the sound, the vibrations traveling down into the man's body.

It was like lightning had hit the man, every muscle in his body locking up as he arched against the restraints, a ragged scream tearing from his lips and moving the sound, bumping it against his prostate from one side as Jensen's fingers brushed against it from the other. 

"If you get hard with this inside of you," Jensen said around the sound, "I can't take it out until you get soft again."

Jensen wasn't sure the man was capable of taking in his words, his eyes unfocused and his breathing so heavy it almost drowned out his low voice, but even though the man's cock had hardened some, it wasn’t fully erect. The man was sobbing, far beyond trying to hide away the tears, and for a moment Jensen thought about moving up to lick the salty droplets away...but there was something else he really needed to do. 

Pulling his fingers back out, he moved his hand down to his own crotch, untying the straps holding his pants up and pulling his hard cock out, moaning around the sound as he gripped his too-sensitive length. He wasn't sure he had ever been so aroused before; raising his head and holding the sound in place with one hand, he used the other to shift the other man around enough to set his ass against Jensen's thighs, Jensen's cock nudging at the slick, stretched opening. Taking a firmer grip of the man's cock, he pushed in with one hard thrust.

The taller man gasped and his cock in Jensen’s hand twitched as he pulled out, holding still with just the head of his cock inside the man's body. Lifting his hands to take a firm grip on the sound, he angled it to make the man shiver and groan before slowly pulling it out, his eyes locked on the silver rod. The prisoner groaned, fighting to keep from moving as the sound stretched him from the inside, his breathing coming in shallow gasps. Jensen stopped when just the ball was left inside the man's cock, holding the sound still while he rocked his hips forward; his prisoner dared to voice a low whine of protest and Jensen smirked, spinning the sound to rotate the ball inside the man's cock as he fucked him with deep, hard thrusts.

"Master," the man groaned. "Feels so...full..."

Jensen’s own orgasm was starting to build; his arousal from seeing the sound inside the prisoner had kept him on the edge for too long for the fucking to last.

"Want to come like this?" Jensen asked, twisting the sound again. "Or should I push this back inside you?"

He knew that the sound wouldn't fit back into the prisoner’s hardened cock, but the man splayed out before him didn’t, and he quickly did just what Jensen had hoped he would.

"Like this, please, Master," the man groaned. "Don't...put it back. Want to come like this. Just like this."

"Mmm." Jensen reached up to put his hand over the mark burnt into the man's chest. "That's right, beg for it. I know you want this; you want to be good for me, don't you, slave?"

"Yes, yes," the man whimpered. He tensed up under Jensen’s touch, his firm muscles hardening, and Jensen wondered if the man would have pulled away had he been able to. He was pretty sure the answer was no; the man was beyond the point of fighting back.

"Come for me," Jensen ordered, pulling the sound free completely.

His prisoner arched as much as the restraints would allow, his inner muscles gripping Jensen's cock like a vice as he came, untouched, white stripes painting his chest; Jensen slid his hand through the come and rubbed it into sweat-slicked skin, covering his mark with sticky fluid.

"See, that wasn't so hard," Jensen said with a smirk. "Next time I can use an even bigger sound."

Weak from his release, the other man barely had strength to move, merely tilting his head away and trying to hide his face in the pillow; Jensen would have none of that. He reached up to slide come-covered fingers into the man's hair, forcing him to look up while Jensen used his slackened and pliant body for his own release. He slammed in hard enough to bruise, drawing back out and forcing himself to stay on the edge for as long as possible before he slammed in again and stilled, his release pulsing into his prisoner's body, claiming him from the inside. 

Jensen left the man like that, spread out, his body still painted with his own come and Jensen's slowly leaking from his hole. He didn't see much point in releasing him; it wasn't like the man served any other purpose in the castle, and Jensen figured he might need him later.

~*~


	13. Chapter 13

_**~Jared~** _

Jared screamed, unable to hold it in any more than he could hold back his tears, even though his voice was ragged from overuse. On the other hand, it had been a long time since he’d tried to hold anything back; the lesson that restraint led to more pain was one he had learnt the hard way.

He stared up at the ceiling, trying not to think; he should have known that Jensen wouldn't appreciate that. A burning sensation ripped through him and he screamed again when Jensen tapped the sound buried deep inside Jared's cock. 

"How does it feel, slave?" Jensen asked detachedly. "Tell me."

Fighting to gather his thoughts, Jared tightened his grip on the sheets, his whole body trembling in his efforts to keep still. 

"Full," he managed.

Looking down at Jensen kneeling between his spread legs, Jared just managed to catch a flash of anger in his dark green eyes before was sound was moving inside of him, scraping the inner walls of his cock. His scream ended in a choked sob that seemed to please Jensen; the man trailed his fingers in a featherlight touch down the length of Jared's cock. 

"More. Tell me how it feels being hard with this inside you," Jensen said, cupping Jared's heavy sac in one hand. "I couldn’t remove it even if I wanted to. Not that I _want_ to; not when it makes you cry and scream."

"Hurts," Jared admitted between sobs. "Too much, too full. It's... I can’t..."

Jensen grabbed Jared's hand, forcing him to replace Jensen's grip on his cock; Jared whimpered at the feel of the metal through his skin, the curve at the end of the sound holding it in place for as long as Jared's erection held. 

"You take whatever I give you," Jensen said, letting go of Jared's cock. "I have so _many_ more things to try."

Willing his erection to die down did no good; Jensen knew his body too well, and if the other man wanted him hard, he would make Jared's traitorous cock harden in mere moments. A wave of humiliation washed over Jared at the thought. 

"Hold that sound still inside you," Jensen ordered as he moved up to straddle Jared's chest. "And open up."

For just a second, Jared's grip on his cock faltered, another burn searing through him when the sound moved again; his scream was plugged by Jensen’s cock stuffing into his mouth, completely silencing him. Jared felt his throat open, his body reacting without a thought after months and month of being so used. His throat worked the head of Jensen's cock when the man pushed all the way inside; sensations shot through Jared’s body, pain wrapped tightly together with pleasure, humiliation tangling with pride so that he couldn't say where one ended and the other began as Jensen groaned and pumped hot ropes of come straight down Jared's throat. 

The taste was heavy and salty, painted thick across his tongue when Jensen pulled back out and left Jared gasping, his hand still wrapped around his cock to keep the sound from moving too much. When Jensen stretched out beside Jared, the metal was jostled, nudging against that spot deep inside that didn't cause pain but a mind-shattering pleasure.

Jared bit back against a protest, a plea not to have his orgasm forced on him; he knew better. He knew what would come if he did. Unwanted pleasure was better than unwanted pain, and Jared knew how to take the what little respite he could get. 

"Come for me," Jensen ordered, one big hand closing around Jared’s cock, stroking it and bringing forth a new wave of sensations from the sound.

Another scream left Jared's lips and he panted as he looked down at his cock, his eyes widening at the come bubbling up around the metal protrusion.

"You might wanna stay still for awhile," Jensen said, standing. "That’ll stay inside you until you go soft. Might take awhile."

As if to prove his point, Jensen touched the tip of the sound, making it brush against Jared's prostate and cause Jared's cock to twitch, hardening even more. 

"Quite awhile, actually."

Jensen smirked and went to put his clothes on.

~*~

The fire crackled in the fireplace, casting shadows out across the room, and Jared was getting lost in the dancing flames. His place on the small rug at Jensen's feet didn't feel awkward anymore; Jared had spent so many evenings there that it didn't even take any effort to fold his large frame into position. Jensen sat in his green high-backed chair, his spine straight and a heavy book open on his lap. The only sound in the room, aside from the crackling of the fire, was the low crinkle of pages turning.

Dressed only in soft white pants, Jared was grateful for the warmth the fire spread through the room; he had spent many evenings trying to hide his shivers when Jensen declined to light the fire, and Jared knew to appreciate his comfortable moments.

His train of thought was derailed by the chime of a bell, its echo not even dying out before the door opened and Misha stepped inside, his eyes locked firmly on his own feet.

"Master, do you have need of my services?" the man asked in a carefully controlled tone. 

Jared looked up through the curtain of his bangs, but Misha didn't look at him; none of the servants had done for months. Jared wondered if that was the way it would be from now on, if Jensen would be the only one to acknowledge his existence at all.

"No," Jensen snapped, his voice harsh like one of his whips. "What I _need_ is something to _drink_ , and then for you to realize that my ringing this bell will never have to do with needing _you_."

Jared watched all the color drain from Misha's face, but the servant knew better than to speak out, instead bowing his head gracefully.

"I'm sorry, Master," he answered softly. "I never meant to offend you."

"Of course you didn't," Jensen scoffed. "You know better than that. Now move."

Misha was out of the room in an instant, but Jared didn't really notice it, all of his focus on the man in the big chair. Jensen’s eyes flickered with a dark fire and there was no doubt in Jared’s mind that the night would end in pain. He never knew what caused his master’s bad moods, but he was always the one who Jensen took them out on, as though every whiplash, every knife wound and painful bite soothed him. Maybe they did; once Jared was left battered and bruised, his body too tender even to move, Jensen usually left with a smirk tilting the corner of his lips.

Suddenly, Jensen's hand landed on Jared's shoulder, a heavy weight that made every muscle in his body tense and his breath catch in his chest.

"You think too much," Jensen said flatly. "It's not what I keep you around for."

"I'm sorry, Master," Jared said quickly, but apparently that hadn’t been the right thing to do.

"Everyone is sorry tonight," his captor said with an abrupt steeliness. "If you did what I expected of you, I wouldn't have to listen to all these excuses."

Jared lowered his head but remained silent, not wanting to say or do anything upsetting; Jensen’s hand was moving from his shoulder up to his hair, fastening into a tight grip to tilt his head back, exposing his neck. The sudden movement made Jared groan and something hard and dangerous flashed in Jensen's eyes for a second before he let go, just in time for Misha to step back into the room. 

"Some wine for you, Master," the man said, balancing a tray with two decanters on it, one full of white wine and the other full of red. 

The surfaces of the wines barely trembled when Misha put the tray down on the table next to Jensen, lifting one perfect crystal glass to put it beside him. Jared was sure he could smell it from his position at Jensen's feet. Misha left on silent feet, not looking at either Jensen or Jared; Jared’s heart twinged, but in Nordaschir, it was hard to feel sorry for anyone but yourself for long. 

Jared wasn't surprised that Jensen chose the red wine. Since he had arrived, he had never seen Jensen touch white. The ruby liquid caught the fire’s golden light and Jared got lost looking at it, watching Jensen bring the glass to his lips. The man didn't take much, but then he lowered it to Jared. Jared’s eyes widened in shock; his master had never let him have anything but water since his arrival despite the rich food that was always served to the both of them.

"Are you saying you don't want it?" Jensen asked harshly when Jared remained motionless. "Are you denying something from my hand?"

"No, Master," Jared said quickly, reaching for the glass.

The crystal felt fragile in his hand and his stomach turned unpleasantly when he put the rim to his lips. He was all too aware of how long it had been since he’d eaten; Jensen in a bad mood always meant that Jared needed to be satisfied with any food at all during the day. Jensen was still watching him; there was no way Jared could avoid drinking. He had never had much of a taste for wine; it had always been a little above his pay grade, but he was sure no wine he could ever have gotten would have tasted like the liquid velvet rolling across his tongue. It was unlike anything he had ever tasted before and despite his empty stomach, he drained the glass in a few deep swallows. He was handing it back to Jensen when it slid through his fingers, falling to the floor and rolling across the thick carpet. 

Jared frowned, his eyes dragging sluggishly from the glass to his hand; he watched his fingers move awkwardly, not feeling the limbs.

"Tastes good, doesn't it?" Jensen asked rhetorically, his tone unfamiliar. "Of course, I wouldn't know; _I’ve_ never tasted it."

Blinking a few times, Jared looked up at the other man, trying to get his vision to focus through a heavy veil. He was _sure_ he had seen Jensen drink, had seen him lifting the glass to his...

The world faded away around him and everything went black.

~*~

The first thing he was aware of was pain.

He didn't want to open his eyes, didn't want to know what was causing it, but then a fresh wave cut through the darkness and he felt like he was being ripped apart. His eyes flew open, blinking a few times to focus on something, anything other than whatever was hurting so much. Jared thought he had seen most of the rooms of the castle by then; for awhile, Jensen had seemed to want to explore every room he could torture Jared in, but the small chamber they were in was something new, the walls bare and the floor empty except for the table he was tied to.

"I wondered how long you would take to wake up," Jensen said casually. "You were out longer than I would’ve thought, but, you know, I've never mixed that drug with alcohol before."

He moved slightly and Jared screamed. He realized then what it was that hurt so much: Jensen had one hand down between Jared's spread-eagle legs, leaving no escape. 

"The drug was necessary for this to make you relax," Jensen went on, his gaze falling down to whatever he was doing to Jared. "I've been meaning to try this for awhile, but you just never relaxed enough. Five fingers so far; the hardest part is coming up."

Jared's eyes widened as the pieces of the puzzle slotted together, his mind reeling; there was no way that what Jensen was attempting was doable. Of course, doable or not, Jensen seemed determined, and Jared felt the fingers inside him shift when Jensen moved, pushing against him; the pain was almost too much to take. Jared's whole body fought the intrusion, trying to stop the fingers from getting further inside.

"This would be easier if you _didn't_ fight it," Jensen said coldly. "But, on the other hand...I like it when you scream."

His nails scraped against Jared’s inner walls and Jared didn't try to suppress his scream; Jensen would like the show of pain and Jared needed whatever little outlet he could get. 

"Do you want this, slave?" Jensen mocked. 

The man had always been a cruel master, but something had shifted over the last few weeks; it seemed to be more purely about torture than anything else, like every scream from Jared’s lips was fuel for Jensen. 

"Yes," Jared managed; whatever pain Jensen was forcing on him would be ten times worse if he dared to protest it. 

If there was one thing the last months had taught Jared, it was that there was _always_ something worse. It seemed like something worse would come no matter what he said this time; the fingers pushed against him, hard pressure slowly stretching him further than he had ever been before. More than he would have ever thought possible. He felt the thickest part of Jensen's hand pushed inside, his whole body convulsing as the smile on Jensen's lips became a terrifying mixture of pride and predaceousness that turned Jared's blood to ice. 

"Relax," the man said, his tone implying just the opposite.

A hard sob wracked Jared's body as the hand moved inside of him, tugging at his inner walls in way that was nothing but _too much_ , humiliation burning heavy in his veins when he felt it clench and unclench inside of him. It was unlike anything he had ever felt before, pain and shame so closely tangled together in a way that he hoped he would never feel again. He had been so sure he had gotten beyond this, so sure he was used to what Jensen could do to him, but with Jensen's hand _inside_ him, Jared knew that he wasn’t immune to Jensen. There was no safety to be had in Nordaschir.

The hand moved again, flexing in a way that sent new ripples through his body, and Jared wondered if he would ever recover from this session.

"It hurts, doesn't it?" Jensen drawled with a lazy smirk. "Wouldn't hurt if you had trusted me."

Jared knew it was a lie; Jensen would never have done this to Jared if he hadn't known it would hurt. Jared clung to the small knowledge that the drugs in his system were softening the ache. 

Then Jensen pushed his hand in even deeper, his nails scraping sensitive tissues, and Jared’s scream was torn out of him before he could think, forbidden words falling from his lips.

"No, it’s too much—please, I... It’s too much, I can't..."

He bit down hard on his lower lip, but the damage was already done, the hand inside him going dangerously still.

"I really thought I’d broken you of that," Jensen said crisply. "I think you need to be taught a lesson _again_."

Pain like nothing else exploded through him when Jensen pulled his hand out, his fingers clenched into a fist; the warmth trickling down Jared’s ass and thighs was his own blood. He cried like he hadn't for months, letting the agony overtake him until all other sensation faded away in a foggy haze.

~*~

Jared's body was healing. He imagined that should be a good thing; each morning, he woke up and it hurt a little less when he moved. He could stand up and walk a few steps without wanting to scream in agony. He wished he could find some comfort in the fact that he hadn't seen Jensen for a week, that it was as if the man had left Nordaschir.

Instead, he was terrified. 

There was no doubt in his mind that Jensen was planning a punishment, but he would have rather have had it right away, when a little extra agony wouldn't have made much of a difference; he was sure that was exactly why his tormentor had chosen to let Jared heal up before he did anything else. Shifting slightly on the bed sent a new tremor up through his body, a nauseating feeling that made him swallow a few times to keep his meager breakfast down. Just when he had gotten his belly back under control, the lock clicked open and Jared flinched before he saw that the man stepping inside wasn't his cruel master but Misha, bearing a tray of food.

Jared moved once more, ignoring the pain rippling through him in favor of keeping his eyes on the intruder, but nothing had changed in his demeanor; Misha put the tray down without as much as glancing in Jared's direction as though he didn’t exist at all. Jared watched in silence as Misha unloaded a small bowl of steaming hot soup and some bread and butter before he turned towards the door. Just before the door closed, Misha stopped for the briefest of moments and spoke without turning around. 

"Master has returned."

The words killed what little appetite he had, but Jared still forced himself to get out of the bed when the door slammed shut; he know that Jensen didn't take kindly to his leaving any food untouched, but before he could get at it, the door opened once more and Jensen strode inside, his usually neat black clothes stained rusty red. 

"Do you remember what you promised when you offered yourself to me?" Jensen asked flatly.

Jared knew he should answer somehow, but he wasn't sure he had any words that wouldn't make things even worse. 

"You promised that I could do whatever I wanted with you if I let that sister of yours go," Jensen answered for him as he stretched out on the bed.

Something was off. Something about the way Jensen looked at him was different, the small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth too hard and his green eyes glinting too dangerously. Jared stood frozen in the middle of the floor, dressed in nothing but the standard white pants that Jensen insisted he wear; he was pretty sure that the full-body shiver running through him was quite visible to the other man.

Megan. Jared hadn't allowed himself to think of her since he had first arrived in Nordaschir, since she had been taken from him. Just the thought of her was enough to shatter a deep recess of his mind, the sharp edges cutting into him. The knowledge of Megan’s safety was the one thing that had kept him together during the long months of torture. He would give anything for Jensen to stop talking, but he had nothing to offer. 

"But you're not really living up to your end of the deal, are you?" Jensen asked, locking his gaze onto Jared. "You fight me, every step of the way."

Jared took an involuntary step back, inhaling sharply when pain shot through his body. His brain struggled to come up with _any_ way to get his captor to shut up, but he knew it was useless. Jensen wanted him to listen. There was no doubt in Jared's mind that the punishment he had been fearing was about to come in a way he had never expected. 

"If you don't keep your promise, I don't keep mine," Jensen explained, the look on his face expectant as he awaited Jared's reaction. "Your sister isn’t safe anymore."

Jared could see Jensen's lips moving as he kept talking, but there was no way for Jared to hear his words over the rush of blood in his ears and the loud hammering of his heart. The stains on Jensen's clothes and skin seemed to burn bright, and when Jared looked over Jensen's body, he realized how _much_ there was, and he suddenly knew _what_ it was. 

"What..." Jared breathed.

Jensen lifted one hand to observe the dried blood on his fingers before he leaned forward and licked it, tasting it with a moan that made Jared's breath hitch. 

"No," he whimpered. "No, no, no."

"And you thought that you had nothing left to lose," Jensen teased. 

The world turned black around Jared, the only sound a painful scream followed by gut-wrenching sobs. He might have been the one to make them, but he couldn’t be sure.

~*~

Awareness crept up slowly, the haze clouding his mind gradually lifting. There was something he needed to remember, something that had happened, something that explained why everything hurt more than it ever had before...

He blinked his eyes open on the green-eyed man seated in a deep armchair beside his bed. The man's polished black clothes pricked something at the back of his mind, a memory trying to clamor up—smears of rusty red stained the man's clothes, dashes of blood sprayed across his skin; another memory surfaced, a tongue flicking out to taste, a mouth curving into a deliciously unsavory smirk—

_And you thought that you had nothing left to lose._

The words ripped a fierce path through his mind, trying to break through to where they would hurt the most. He shied away, trying to deny their meaning; darkness wrapped around him and he welcomed it, immersing himself before he was forced to remember something that didn’t need remembering.

_**~One month later~** _

The light shining in through the windows was all too bright for Jared’s comfort; he lay still, listening for any sounds in the room.

All was silence.

The armchair beside him was empty; he reached out to touch the fabric. Still warm. 

Jared pushed himself out of bed, forcing himself not to wince when the cuts and welts adorning his body pulled as he walked over to the water basin in the corner. His body was no longer something of his own, no longer something to touch or examine at a whim; he wiped it down tenderly, dragging the frigid cloth through remnants of the previous night’s activities. He shivered in his cleanliness and pulled on his soft white pants, the fabric sticking to his damp skin.

Just as he was about to take his place in the armchair to await his master’s summons, the door opened. 

He was on his knees without a thought, his neck bowed submissively, reflexively, his ear attuned to any incoming order or litany of expectations. That familiar hand slid into his hair, its painfully tight grip tilting his head back until his dim eyes were aligned with the cold green ones above him. 

"Open up."

Jared trembled from cold, or fear, or pain, or something else, something darker. He closed his eyes and opened wide.

Obeying, he was complete.

_**~The End~** _


End file.
